


Feeling Like A Ghost

by BossToaster (ChaoticReactions)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Gladiators, Kerberos Mission, Magnets: How do they work?, Shiro (Voltron) Whump, Shiro (Voltron)-centric, Shiro Week 2016, Snow Day, Stargazing, Winter Soldier Fusion (kinda)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2016-11-26
Packaged: 2018-09-01 03:05:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8604676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaoticReactions/pseuds/BossToaster
Summary: Fills for Shiro Week 2016Day One: Dorks on the Kerberos MissionDay Two: Even gladiator fights are never simpleDay Three: Fake it till you make it (when 'it' is constellations)Day Four: When Shiro's down for the count, he's not aloneDay Five: There's more to the connection between Paladin and Lion than Shiro knowsDay Six: Snow DayDay Seven: Winter Soldier AU





	1. If There's No Guarentee

Shiro leaned back in his chair, hands wrapped firmly around the armrests.  All the lights he could afford to put out on the pilot’s consoles were dark, and he was angled to see as much of the viewing window as possible.

He’d been doing this for about half an hour or so.  And it was a little silly, all things considered.  Shiro didn’t have to do any of this, and ignoring certain flight functions for long periods of time wasn’t the safest thing he’d ever done.  But it wasn’t actively dangerous, either.  Not really.  And he wanted to.

There was a knock on the door, and then it opened.  Commander Holt floated in, then held onto the back of Shiro’s chair.  “Good evening, Takashi,” he greeted calmly, ducking down to follow Shiro’s line of sight.  “You were supposed to go rest half an hour ago.”

Shiro hummed in agreement, not looking away.  “I’m relaxing,” he returned.  “That counts.”

Huffing, Commander Holt shook his head.  “I don’t agree.  You need your sleep.  We only have one pilot, you know.”  He clapped Shiro on the shoulder and gave him a playful shake, smiling at Shiro’s returning snort.  “What are you doing in here, anyway?  Please don’t tell me you’re trying to sleep in your chair again.”

“No, no.  I learned my lesson.”  Shiro grinned, a little despite himself.  The straps for the pilot chair were plenty secure for when he was aware, but he’d rolled over in the wrong way and managed to unclip himself, and ended up wedged into a corner.  His suit had gotten hooked and he had to call for rescue, which was an experience he didn’t want to repeat.  “Just watching.”

Brows up, Sam went back to watching the window as well.  “Yes, I can see why.  Such change.”

“Neptune should start to be visibly different soon,” Shiro replied, voice just slightly sulky.  “I wanted to make sure our trajectory was still correct.”

Sam eyed him.  “Or trajectory is perfect as always.  You just wanted to see, huh?”

“It’s Neptune!”  Shiro let out, giving up pretending to have a good reason.  “When will I get to see Neptune again?”

“For the week we’ll have to look at it,” Sam replied fondly.  “And you can already see it. It’s right there.”  He pointed to the bright dot among many.

Shiro huffed.  “You can see that on Earth with the right telescope.  I wanted to see when it started to look like a planet to the naked eye.”  But he shook his head.  “Won’t be for a couple of hours.”

“Sounds like you should get some sleep,” Sam replied, his tone just shy of smug.

Laughing, Shiro nodded.  “Probably.  But I can go without one nap.  I’ll be fine.”

Lips twisting, Commander Holt watched him.  “I could make it an order.”

“And I would obey that order to the letter,” Shiro replied, tone innocent, just as the door opened.

Matt floated in as well, going to Shiro’s other side.  “Ooh, that’s fighting words from you, Shirogane.  What’d Dad do?  Are we getting into trouble?”

“We?”  Shiro asked, tone bland.

Commander Holt rolled his eyes.  “Are you ever out of trouble?”

Hand over his heart, Matt’s eyes went huge.  “Double teamed!  I’ve been betrayed.  And by my own father.  Woe.”  He rested his head on Shiro’s shoulder, then paused.  After a moment he pulled away, his nose crinkled.  “Your hair is getting long, you know that?”

Shiro paused, his hand coming up to run through his hair.  The difference between where it had been buzzed and where it was allowed to grow out was definitely stark, but all of it was certainly shaggier.  “It’s not worth the effort.  No one wants to float around in a cloud of my hair.”

From the way Matt’s mouth twisted, he wanted to make a joke about someone being into that.  But instead he glanced at his father and visibly curbed himself.

Honestly, that was part of the reason Shiro liked to hang around Commander Holt.

Well, that and Commander Holt was just _amazing._

“Would you like a hand?” Matt offered instead.  He ran his fingers through Shiro’s bangs.  “We could use one of those vacuums and we’d probably get most of it.  And, I mean, there’s hair around anyway.  Unavoidable.  Might as well keep your look.”  

Actually, it’s be a lot of help to have an extra set of hands.  “I suppose I should.  It’s starting to get in my eyes.  Not very regulation, is it?”  Shiro twisted his face in Iverson’s usual prickly expression and closed one eye, scowling until Matt snickered.  Then he remembered Commander Holt on his other side and froze, clearing his throat.  “I mean-”

“Oh, please, don’t stop making fun of Monty on my behalf,” Commander Holt replied.  “I promise you, you aren’t saying anything I haven’t complained about myself.”

Still, Shiro colored and reminded himself not to rise to Matt’s jokes so much in front of his father.  He was, after all, their commanding officer.  And Shiro really didn’t want to cross a line and disappoint him.

Matt tugged gently on the longer bangs.  “So, help or no?”

“Sure, actually.  I can do the buzzing if you use the vacuum,” Shiro replied.  “Thanks.  You want me to return the favor?”

Shaking his head, Matt fluffed his bangs.  “I was thinking about growing it out.  Going bohemian.  Who’s gunna tell me I can’t?”

“I don’t believe ‘bohemian’ is regulation,” Commander Holt interjected dryly.

Leaning over Shiro, Matt snorted.  “Send me back to Earth, then.”

Commander Holt sighed and shook his head, but his lips were quirked up.  It helped that it was his son, but Matt just knew that line to dance between acceptable insubordination and outright rebellion.  Or, at least, he blurred it enough that he didn’t get in trouble.

It all still kind of baffled Shiro. Sure, he never claimed to be a perfect rule follower, but he didn’t flaunt that in commanders’ faces.  He prefered to keep his rebellions to himself where they belonged.

Besides, no one told him ‘no’ when they didn’t know what he was planning.

Well, maybe it came from Matt growing up with a high ranking officer for a father.  Hm.

“So, c’mon, it’ll be fun,” Matt said, knocking his shoulder with Shiro’s.  “We’ll braid our hair and talk about boys.”

And because Matt’s artful rules dodging brought out Shiro’s sense of mischief, he cupped his cheeks and sighed.  “Oh, yes.  Commander Holt is just so dreamy.”

On one side, Commander Holt choked in surprise.  On the other, Matt physically recoiled and pretended to start gagging.  “Oh my god, Shiro!”

“You’re the one who wanted to talk about it.”

Matt groaned and covered his face.  “Oh god, I’m picturing it.  You’re killing me.  How could you do this to me?  This was all an elaborate plan to murder me in space when I was least expecting it.”

“It’s the salt and pepper hair,” Shiro continued, with a quick, apologetic smile at Commander Holt.  There was no response, since he was too busy covering his face with his hands and shaking his head.  “Very silver fox.”

Actually _howling_ in disgust, Matt shoved at Shiro’s shoulder.  Unfortunately, he didn’t plant his feet properly, and instead sent himself gently floating off in the other direction.  “Jesus Christ, shut up.  I take it back, I take it back.”

Finally, Commander Holt seemed to catch his breath, and he put a serious hand on Shiro’s hand.  “Takashi,” he said, voice suddenly all stern seriousness, and Shiro froze in guilt.  

That may have been a bit too far.

But instead, Commander Holt put a hand on his chest.  “I’m sorry, our love is forbidden.  Not on the mission.” He trailed off dramatically, but then looked at Shiro over the tops of his glasses, running from his face and down.  “But after...”

Shiro went bright red.

Matt screeched.  “I hate you both.  I hate you both _so much._  Call me when you’re done with this.  Or if you’re not kidding, _never.”_  Pulling off his glasses, Matt scrubbed over his face and eyed his father.  “You’re married, for godsakes.”

“Haven’t you heard of an open marriage, Matthew?”

That was the final straw, apparently.  Matt let out a noise like a gargle and shook his head, then pushed off the wall.  He was out the door in seconds, and it slammed shut behind him.

Commander Holt burst into snickers.  “Oh, it’s been years since I’ve seen him that embarrassed.  Thank you, that did me good.”  He patted Shiro’s shoulder.  

“You’re welcome,” Shiro replied, though his cheeks were still warm with his blush.

Finally catching his breath, Commander Holt nodded.  “And you still need rest, you know.”

Ah, right.  He’d forgotten about that.  Glancing at the window again, Shiro sighed.  Neptune was still nothing more than a particularly bright spot.  “I suppose you’re right.”

“That’s why I’m the commander,” he agreed, then gave Shiro’s shoulder another squeeze.  “Seriously, off you go.  You don’t get nearly enough sleep for my liking as is.”  Commander Holt shook his head, huffing.  “One pilot for the whole mission, honestly.”

It was a familiar complaint, and Shiro just shrugged in return.  At first, he’d been so thrilled.  He’d applied for the mission expecting a junior position under a more experienced pilot, just to be part of it.  But instead he was not only the main navigator, but the only one.

Commander Holt had been furious, but no amount of complaints had changed any minds.  And instead they’d suggested that maybe someone else should be Commander, if he couldn’t handle it.

At that point, he’d had no choice but to let it go.  He was still furious.

Shiro wasn’t sure what to think.  But they were most of the way there, now, and it had been fine.  Going with a little less sleep for a few months was such a small price to pay to be part of all of this.

But he knew it still bothered Commander Holt a lot.  So, it was an easy kindness to give in and let him take care of Shiro.  And really, he appreciated it anyway.

“Alright,” Shiro agreed, unstrapping himself.  “I’ll get a couple of hours.”

“Good lad.  I’ll let you know if anything requires you.  Go rest.”  With that, Commander Holt settled himself into his own chair.  “And if it’s nearly two hours and it starts to change, I’ll let you know.”

Chest warm, Shiro beamed at him.  “Thank you.”

“No problem.  Now go, Lieutenant.”

“Yes’sir,” Shiro replied.  He gave a respectful dip of his head, habit by now, and then slipped out.

Within ten minutes Shiro was in their sleeping quarters and settling into bed.  Before he could even start to drift off, the door opened.  “Hey,” Matt greeted, more quietly than before.  “I have a question.”

“I’m not actually going to be a homewrecker, if that’s what you’re wondering,” Shiro replied dryly.  He doubted it, but the response did make Matt crack a smile.

Moving into the room, Matt tiled his head.  “No, not that.  I just... you never talk about, like, relationships.  And so I made the boys joke, and I just wanted to make sure..”  Matt sighed.  “I dunno, I wanted to make sure you didn’t think I was making fun of you for... anything.  Or if I was making you uncomfortable.  So I figured I’d ask now instead of letting it stew.”

Shiro paused.  “I, uh... Mostly I didn’t think anything of it.  You were kidding.”

Eyes going wide, Matt slumped.  “Oh.  And now I made it a thing instead, by making sure it wasn’t a thing.  Yay.”

“It’s still not a thing,” Shiro insisted.  “I’m not-”  He paused, trying to figure out how to word this.  “If you want to talk about boys, I could do that.  If you don’t, I can do that too.  It doesn’t really bother me either way.  Okay?”

Matt drummed his fingers on the table.  “Okay.  Um, that’s good.  Not really what I meant, but I’m glad- okay, cards on the table.  I would talk about boys.  I’m wondering if you’re just okay with hearing me talk about them, or if you’d also talk.”  He sighed.  “This is a shitty metaphor.”

“Yeah,” Shiro agreed.  “It barely counts.  And yes.  I would.  I kind of talk about anybody, regardless.  Why?”

Expression brightening, Matt nodded.  “Oh.  Okay.  Cool.  I mean, there’s not really a why.  I got to thinking.”  But then he pointed.  “I’m not going to talk about Dad with you, though.”

“I have no desire to talk about your Dad,” Shiro replied.  “He’s out of my league anyway.”

Matt coughed out a laugh, then froze.  “Wait, really?  Dude.  You kidding me?  You’d make a great trophy boy.  Don’t put yourself down like that.”

Staring, Shiro tilted his head.  “Thanks.”

“I- you know what?  Why are we having this conversation?  I don’t know, and I brought it up, so I’m stopping it.”  Matt huffed, then pushed his way over to Shiro.  After a moment of hesitation, he pulled him close and patted him on the back.  “Thank you for telling me.”

Shiro shrugged. “I wasn’t hiding it, just no one was asking.  But you’re welcome.”

With a last pat, Matt nodded.  “Yeah.  But still.  And now I should let you sleep before Dad kicks my ass.  Have a good nap.”

Smiling softly, Shiro nodded.  “Thanks.  Night.”  And he watched, amused, as Matt slipped back out, turning off the lights behind him.

It had been a strange little exchange, but nice anyway.  Shiro appreciated that Matt had been worried Shiro was uncomfortable and tried to fix it, in his own Matt kind of way.  And something about the entire exchange felt hopeful.

But frankly, Shiro was way too tired to think about it too much, so he strapped himself in and settled in comfortably.

He’d think about it in the morning.


	2. The World Might Do Me In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's no such thing as simple systems.
> 
> That includes arena battles.

The first time Shiro heard of the patron system, it wasn’t to his benefit.

He had just started to get into the rhythm of life in the arena.  He would be dragged out of his cell.  Sometimes he’d be handed one of a few weapons, and other times he was on his own.  Then Shiro was shoved into the ring with his opponent, the lights would come on, and the crowd would cheer.

Then, Shiro fought.

After was always a blur.  Either his opponent would be killed the scuffle, usually by accident, or Shiro would hold his ground, and the guards would come.

That part always hurt.  Shiro’s mind shied away from the thought.

Then, if he was hurt badly enough, he was healed.  If it wasn’t deemed threatening, they put him back in his cell until the next fight.

Rinse, lather, repeat.

There wasn’t any day or night cycle in the cells.  The lights were always dim, and there were always guards around, the drones changing out every few hours.  The only way Shiro had to keep track of time was meals, and he had no way of knowing if they were regular.

It had been probably a couple of weeks of this, and Shiro was getting used to it.

So of course they changed it on him.

Once he was in the antechamber, waiting for the doors to open, Shiro wasn’t offered a weapon.  That didn’t bother him, but the way his wrists were suddenly snagged did.

Shiro hated the way the Galra were so much larger than him.  Hated that they could lift him and drag him around with one hand.

He’d tried to learn to deal with it.  But he hadn’t been very successful

“Hey!”  Shiro snapped, instinctive and sharp, trying to yank himself away.  He got nothing except a sore shoulder for his struggles, as the guard snapped something around both his wrists, binding them together tightly.  Then he let go, and the sudden freedom made Shiro crash down to the floor.  It took a moment of struggle to get back to his feet, and he glared up at the guard.  

The visor hid the Galra’s face, but Shiro got the distinct impression they found his struggles and snapping unamusing.  “You’ve been bet against, Champion,” they told him, voice bland.  “Prepare yourself.”

“What?” Shiro asked.  His stomach sank.  Every time something new happened, things got worse for him.

But there was no reply.  Instead, the doors opened, and the lights came on.  As he stepped out, arms still bound behind him, the crowd went wild, mixed cheers and boos.

His opponent walked out of the door on the opposite side.  The didn’t have any bindings that Shiro could see.  In fact, they looked cleaner and better cared for than Shiro had seen anyone look since Myzax.

“Favor goes to Jolanar!”  Announced the commentator, and there was a roar of mixed approval and frustration, same as there always was when the odds changed.

Shiro tugged on the bindings, testing them.

They were crude and made of thin metal, like the cheap cuffs the police used on TV. He grinned and ducked behind a pillar, waiting and watching. 

And then Shiro charged.

***

After, Shiro considered what that had all been about, and then wrote it off as just another strange thing that had happened.  Of all the ways his life had changed in the past few weeks, one fight with a pair of handcuffs was honestly pretty low ranking in his need to know.  

So it slipped his mind.  Until one day he was dragged out of his cage, and wasn’t half-dragged toward the ring.

Instead, Shiro was stripped and shoved into a strange, small room.  It turned out to be some form of shower, and he was practically hosed down and then dried off with jets of air.  After, he was dressed up in another uniform, this one not tattered like his original.

The whole thing was frankly baffling, and Shiro wondered dizzily if he’d finally gotten so gross they felt the need to clean him up.  Except there were definitely prisoners who looked and smelled nastier than him, and they weren’t getting dragged out to be cleaned off.

“Do not struggle,” the guard snapped at him, low and threatening.  Shiro sneered back, digging in his heels and preparing to be as much of a pain as possible.  But then the guard clapped something over his mouth, and it clicked behind the back of his head before Shiro could do more than give a muffled cry of surprise.

Then, the noise cut off completely.

He’d been  _ muzzled _ .

Shiro tried to snarl at the guard, but nothing came out.  When he took a step forward, he was just grabbed and spun around, and his wrists were locked together.

Damn.  A thicker, sturdier set than in that battle.  They were learning.  Shiro could still get out, but not as easily.

Well, he’d work on it.

Cleaned, muzzled and leashed, Shiro felt uncomfortably like a dog as he was led out into a new, bright room.

He’d never seen the kind of clothing the aliens inside were wearing.  It was all thick cloth in bold colors, with layers and drapes and designs.

It took Shiro a few moments to realize what he was looking at.  These were the elites.  The rich, come to ooh and aww over those who fought for their entertainment.

So, he wasn’t some stray mutt.  Shiro was a show dog.

Very comforting.

He was shoved along, and Shiro growled to himself.  He couldn’t even hear that.  But until he had a better grasp on the situation, it wasn’t worth making a scene, so he went along and stood where he was directed, glaring at anyone who came close enough.

The alien who came up to investigate wasn’t a Galra.  If anything, they reminded Shiro of the Cowardly Lion from the Wizard of Oz.  Furred and maned, with a wide face and a mouthful of sharp teeth.  The mane was braided and well-kept, with jewelry and gems glinting from within all the hair.  “So this is the new reigning champion, huh?”  He smiled at Shiro, head tilted and eyes bright with curiosity.  He looked like a child might when presented with the latest cool toy.

Shiro glared back and bared his teeth, wishing it showed through muzzle.

“Yes, Your Highness,” one of the guards replied.  “And I must remind you to keep your distance.  These creatures are vicious, and your safety is priority.”

The lion king - and Shiro was glad his snort was muffled by the muzzle - waved a dismissive hand at the guard, unconcerned.  “I’m plenty safe where I am, don’t worry.  I just wanted to see.  I was very impressed.  I might be more now, since I know how small he is.  Barely even up to my shoulders.”  The king shook his head and sighed, then offered Shiro another smile.  “I expect great things from you, you know.”

Murder.  He expected murder, like it was just a fun way to spend an evening.  Like he was looking over Shiro’s goddamn report card.

After a moment, the king nodded.  “I’d like to put down on him.”

Eyes bright, the guard nodded.  “Of course, right this way-” and they both wandered off, and Shiro was left standing in place, still bound and muffled.

It wasn’t until he was alone and he closed his eyes that Shiro realized he was shaking.

The fights were bad enough.  Being shoved into a ring and knowing his death was entertainment for a bunch of bloodthirsty aliens was beyond awful

But this was something different altogether.  It stripped him of his humanity in a new way, a cut on an area he didn’t realized hadn’t been tarnished yet.

Closing his eyes, Shiro let out a long sigh through his nose, just to be able to hear it.

Not for the first time, he wished he hadn’t won that first fight.  What was the point, anymore?

***

After that, things changed.

Once the lion started to put down money on Shiro, it opened the floodgates, and he started to get strange fights more often than not.  The terrain would be different, electrified or with red hot elements that had to be avoided.  Shiro would be given weapons, each stranger and more showy than the last, and when he threw them aside to fight better, he was punished.

The patrons didn’t like seeing their gifts thrown away, it seemed.

But the worst one were when he was given an ‘favor’.

Shiro fought opponents with cuffed wrists, who couldn’t break out the way Shiro could.  Or they were blindfolded, or already wounded, and came out whipped.

He didn’t realize why until another one of his show dog days.   “Did you like my present?” The lion king would ask, all fond, easy smiles.  He didn’t seem to notice Shiro’s horrified stares at all.  “Sometimes it’s nice to have an easy fight, right?  After last week’s little fiasco, you deserved a pick-me-up.”

Last week, Shiro had faced another favored fighter, this time with some kind of implant in his face that let them fire off energy shots.  They’d howled with pain each them they used it.  It had made Shiro feel sick to look at, and he’d ended up needing healing session after.

This week, Shiro had fought an alien with big eyes and long, gangly limbs.  They’d held their blade in a shaky, vine like grip.  They’d gone down in one hit, and Shiro had watched the guard shoot them dead when he hadn’t been able to bring himself to kill them.

That was a  _ present? _

Luckily, the lion never needed a response.  He was always happy to chatter on, oblivious to Shiro’s stiff posture and furious eyes.

Then again, Shiro wasn’t surprised.  No one here ever actually cared how he felt.  As long as he fought and won, nothing else mattered.

Shiro didn’t matter.  Only his record did.

***

A few months down the line, Shiro wondered how much money he’d made the Galra.  There was no way of him knowing, not really.  He had no idea what anything cost.  For all he knew, it was pocket change to change out fight orders or get someone a different weapon.

But almost as soon as he started to try and calculate a number, Shiro shook his head and cast the thought out of his mind.

He was already a slave.  He didn’t need to feel like a mercenary on top of it.

Or worse, think about the fact that his body and sweat and blood were on sale to anyone with enough money.

Shiro’s skin crawled, and he closed his eyes.

Time to think about something else.  Or maybe just time to stop thinking completely.

***

Then, it happened.

Shiro was the favored fighter, but that didn’t mean anything.  It was just another advantage, and Shiro had won more favor battles than he ever wanted to think back on.

But someday, he wasn’t going to be able to keep up.  And today was that day.

Shiro looked away from his right arm, shaking with pain and nausea.  He’d been sliced and burned and bruised, but it had usually been somewhat abstract.  Anything bad enough to look disgusting, Shiro had probably passed out and been healed.

But now he could see the muscle, and a fragment of bone jutted out of the split skin.

And this time, they weren’t dragging him out to a healing pod.  Instead, the Witch Haggar came. 

Rumor had it, Haggar was a patron.  Shiro didn’t know about that.  He’d never seen her at one of the show dog parties.  But she’d been to dozens of the fights, and always watched with a keen, hungry interest.

“Tsk tsk, Champion.  This won’t heal so easily.  I’ll take months to fix you up completely.  We can’t have you down that long.”  She smirked.  “No, it’ll have to come off.”

Shiro’s heart stopped.

“Take him to my lab.”

No.  No no no, nonono.  

As Shiro was dragged to his feet, and his screams of pain at were ignored, Haggar smiled.

And right before he was out of earshot, he heard her speak.

“Consider this my Favor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops I accidentally backstory.
> 
> Golly, seems like this is thought out, doesn't it? And there are some odd details about random OCs?
> 
> Can't IMAGINE how that's gunna come back. No sir.


	3. Try and Hear Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stargazing with Pidge.
> 
> It does not go according to plan.

The observation room was dark when Shiro entered.  At first, his hand covered over the pad, ready to turn on the lights.  Then he noticed how Pidge was sprawled out on the ground, a piece of paper stretched out in front of her, with a small handheld light off and to the side.  “Hey.  Am I interrupting?”

Pidge jumped and sat up, taking a deep breath.  “Oh.  Hey.  I didn’t hear you.”  She pulled off her glasses, frowning as she scrubbed at the glass, probably for something to occupy herself with.  “No, not really.  I was just looking.”

“At what?”  Shiro asked.  He stepped over and sat down next to her, glancing at the paper.  It was a print out of an Altean star map, showing the section of space they were currently settled in.  “Looking for something?”

Pidge sighed.  “No.  Literally just looking.”  She flopped back down with an easy, boneless move that made Shiro feel suddenly old.  

“So stargazing?”  He laid back as well and watched.  “Hmm, sounds nice.  Gazed at anything interesting?  If you don’t mind sharing.”

For a moment, Pidge was silent, and Shiro thought that maybe she did mind.  But then Pidge shook her head, and while Shiro couldn’t see it, he could feel her curls brush against his own hair.  “I mean, it’s interesting in a ‘this is a totally different set of stars’ kind of way, but it’s also sad.  There’s nothing to look for.  No north star, no planets we would recognize.  When you stargaze on Earth, usually, you’re looking for the map of what other people have already named.  Here it’s all unfamiliar.  So it looks cool, but it feels like there’s nothing to look for.”

Shiro considered that for a long moment.  Pidge sounded just a little raw when she said that, and he suspected she had done her stargazing with someone else.  Or, specifically, her family.  He hated to just leave her to stew, but the act of doing this might also be something personal.  But she had said she didn’t mind him here, so until she said or implied otherwise, he’d stay.

Finally, Shiro sat up and pulled over the sheet, then took the light and turned it on.  “Well, there’s an easy answer for that.  We make our own.”

Blinking at him, Pidge tilted her head.  “Just... make them up?”

“Sure. Somebody made them up in the first place, right?  We’ll find some, group them, then try to find them out there.  Do you have a pen?”  When Pidge dug one out of her pockets, Shiro bent over the piece of paper, connecting several.  Then he slid the sheet over to her for approval.  “Lioness Major.”

Pidge squinted.  “I don’t see it.”

Well, damn.  Shiro was no artist, but he thought he could at least connect the dots.  “Look, that’s the tail, and those are the feet.”

“It doesn’t have a  _ head.” _  Taking the pen back, Pidge connected the torso to another star.  “There.”

Shiro huffed.  “Now it’s head is really long, though. It’s more like a horse.”

That only made Pidge shrug.  “Horse Major.  Er, Equus Major.”

“But we need lions,” Shiro insisted.

“Fine, fine.  I mean, the lions are already in space, so whatever, but...”  Pidge connected a few more dots in another section.  “There, seen?  Legs, a tail, and a nice, short head.  How’s that?”

Shiro smiled.  “I can live with it.  And look.”  He took the pen again, then made another group near the lions, this time forming a diamond with two lines on either side.  “It has a castle, too.”

Nodding slowly, Pidge grinned back.  “I can live with that one.”

“I’m ever so glad to have your approval.”

Pidge stuck her nose in the air.  “As you should be.”  Then she snatched the pen back.  “Okay, let’s see. This one is a robot.”  She made a set of arms and legs, with an extra star for the head.  “We shall name him Robbie.”

Snorting, Shiro grinned.  “Nice.  Bringing a little Asmivo to another galaxy.”  Pidge nodded, clearly satisfied with herself.  “How about this?”  Taking the pen, he drew out a large triangle, with a smaller cluster within.  “There.  Constellations are sometimes heroes, too.  So that’s Rover.”

Pidge froze, eyes wide.  Then she nodded, small and jerky.  “I like that,” she told him, voice suddenly rough.  “I like that a lot.”  She spent a moment staring at the Rover constellation.  “Can we stop and find them now?  We can make more, but... I’d like to see it.”

“Sure,” Shiro replied softly.  He sprawled back out, and a moment later, Pidge laid down next to him.  “Okay, what’s nearest Rover?  Does that chart mark by brightness?”

Shaking her head, Pidge frowned.  “No.  We can use the interface, if we want.”

Shiro crinkled his nose.  “That feels like cheating.”

“So?”

Rolling his eyes, Shiro reached over and ruffled her hair, shoving her bangs under her glasses to get in her eyes.  “Cheating is for people not smart enough to do it themselves.  And you’re plenty smart enough.”

Pidge pouted at him.  “It’s also for people who don’t want to waste their whole afternoon on something that can be done in two seconds.”

“If it takes too long, we’ll look it up,” Shiro allowed.  “But part of the fun is the search.  Telescopes would be boring if they showed you everything.”

That earned him a snort.  “Says you.  But fine, fine. We’ll do it your way.”  Pidge pressed closer, scooting up until their heads were next to each other, probably to make pointing out star clusters easier.  “Let’s see... Let’s look for something unique.  It’ll make it easier.”

After a moment of searching, Shiro nodded to the right.  “Those four over there make an even square.  Let’s try that.”

Nodding thoughtfully, Pidge held the map up.  “Hmm... there’s a couple like that.  This one here, and that one over in the far fight.”

“See?  Progress already.”  Pidge snorted loudly, and Shiro rolled his eyes.  “Okay, the one on the right has that zig-zag next to it.  We could try looking for that, next.”

Humming, Pidge cranked her neck to see past the map.  “I don’t see it.”

Shiro tilted his head and concentrated, but nodded.  “I don’t either.  Well, the left square has the curved line from the lion tail.”

“I don’t see it either,” Pidge replied, tone growing frustrated.  She took the map, bringing it closer to her face and squinting at it in the gloom.

For a moment, Shiro glanced back and forth at the map and the sky, trying to pinpoint something similar between them both.

Then it hit.  “Ah, got it.”

“Yeah?  Where?”  Pidge turned to look at him, frowning.

Taking the top of the map, Shiro spun it until it was upside down, then handed it back.  “Now try.”

Pidge was silent for a moment.  “Oh.  There’s the tail.”

“Mmhmm.”

“Probably should have thought of that.”

“Probably.”

Pidge crinkled her nose and scowled at him, and Shiro just grinned back, unrepentant.  Finally, she gave into childishness and stuck out her tongue.

Pinching the air in front of her tongue, Shiro narrowed his eyes.  “Careful, you could get hurt doing that.”

“Hurt how?” Pidge replied, voice muffled front her tongue still hanging out.  “I can do those all day.”

Shiro pinched again, this time closer, and she yanked it back.  “Hurt because someone will steal it.”

Snorting, Pidge kicked his shin.  Hard.  Shiro yelped in surprise more than pain, but he did angle his legs away from her.  “Try it,” she shot back.  “Anything you dish out, I’ll give back harder.”

Eyes narrowed at the open challenge, Shiro sat up.  “You wanna bet?”

“Oh, hell yes.”

Snapping forward, Shiro grabbed Pidge around the chest, yanking her closer before she could scramble away.  Then, when she tried to reach back to smack him in the head, he caught her wrist and twisted her arm behind her back, pinning it like a chicken wing, so she was sprawled on her stomach.  “What was that?”

Pidge kicked hard, but she couldn’t bend enough to hit Shiro at that angle.  “I said I’d get you back!”

“I’m not feeling very gotten.”

Laughing, Pidge tried to elbow him with her other arm, but Shiro caught that in his metal arm, bringing her suddenly short.  She snarled.  “Who said it’d be right away?  I’ll get you  _ back.” _  When Pidge tried to sit up, Shiro pushed her back down casually, enjoying her howl of rage and promises of revenge.

Which was when the door opened, and the remaining paladins stuck their heads in.

Pidge and Shiro both froze.  

One brow slowly rising up, Lance looked over them. “Hey.  We heard yelling.  What’cha up to?”

Swallowing hard, Shiro looked down at Pidge, who stared back up, her glasses barely hanging onto one ear.  “Um.  Stargazing.”

“Ah.  Makes sense.”  Hunk glaced at the window, then back at them.  Pidge’s face was still half squashed against the ground, so she clearly wasn’t gazing at anything.  “Interesting method.”

Shiro shrugged one shoulder.  When Pidge tried to use the distraction to get up, he pushed her back down without looking, and grinned at her frustrated growl.  “We may have gotten a bit distracted.”

“Just a little,” Lance replied dryly.  Then he glanced at Hunk.  “This doesn’t look fair, though.”

Uh oh.

Hunk nodded sagely. “It really doesn’t.  Not even a little.”

Shiro tensed, but it wasn’t in time.  Hunk swooped over and grabbed Shiro around his waist, yanking him away.  When Shiro griped Hunk’s arm to break free, Lance dove over his legs, pinning him down.

Pidge whooped in glee as she sat up.  Then she launched herself at Shiro, wrapping her arms around his neck and trying to weigh him down like an anchor.  “Revenge!”

“Hey!”  Keith grabbed Pidge’s waist and yanked on her, which only dragged Shiro forward.  He eventually lost his balance and tumbled forward, falling on top of Lance and dragging Pidge into their pile.

Scowling up at Keith, Pidge huffed.  “Aww, c’mon.  Shiro versus all of us.”

“Nope,” Keith replied stubbornly.  “I’m in Shiro’s corner.”

Chest warm, Shiro struggled to stand with Hunk still stubbornly wrapped around his stomach.  It didn’t work.  “Try tickling her,” he suggested cheerfully.

Pidge shrieked and kicked off the floor, trying to preemptively turn on Keith, who nearly shoved her to the floor in surprise.

And from there, it was predictable mayhem.

It wasn’t until later that Shiro remembered to go recover their forgotten star chart.  

Then he got an idea.

***

The next morning, Shiro scratched at his jaw as he entered the kitchen for breakfast.  “Morning, Hunk,” he greeted, blinking slowly.  He had been up for a couple of hours, doing laps through the castle’s hallways.  But the shower after had been warm and put him back into a slight drowse, and he hadn’t managed to shake it yet.

“Oh, and I’m chopped liver,” Pidge drawled.  “Charming.”

Blinking, Shiro’s brow furrowed.  Usually, Pidge was only to breakfast before Shiro when she’d stayed up all night.  He squinted and looked her over, but she looked too well rested to have pulled an all-nighter.

At least, he hoped so.  If Pidge had figured out how to fool him, he was done for.

“Morning, Pidge,” Shiro replied carefully.  “I didn’t expect you up this early.”

She shrugged in response, stirring the bowl of... well, it looked like oatmeal.  Hunk only knew what it tasted like.  “I had a project in my brain, so I got up early to work on it.  And I slept a whole five hours.  Unless you got more than that, I don’t want to hear it.”

“That’s not how this works,” Shiro replied, bone dry.

Filling a bowl of the space-oatmeal for Shiro, Hunk chuckled.  “Good luck with that.”

Shiro grunted his disagreement, but otherwise dropped the subject.  Reaching for his glass, he paused at the sight of one of the castle’s goblets.  “Really?”

“The normal glasses were dirty,” Hunk replied easily.  “Besides, the goblets are cool.  They’re fancy.  We live in a castle, so why not?”

That made enough sense for Shiro’s morning brain, so he nodded and wrapped his fingers around it, taking a long sip.  Then he put it down.

Or he tried to.  Despite trying to pull back, his fingers wouldn’t let go.

Across the table, Pidge snickered.

It dawned on Shiro that he’d been had.

Reaching out with his other hand, Shiro tried to yank the goblet away, but he only ended up knocking the silverware with his metal elbow, making them stick too.  “Dammit!”  He rested his natural forearm on the stem of the fork and tried to yank up with all his strength.  It just ripped out of his grasp and stayed stuck, while the water in the goblet sloshed over the table.

Pidge broke into laughter. “Told you I’d get you back!”

Gritting his teeth, Shiro narrowed his eyes at her. “Not funny!”

“I dunno, I think it’s pretty hilarious,” Hunk chimed in, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms.

Scowling at him, Shiro huffed.  “I warned you about enabling.”

“Worth it.”

Shiro’s glare promised retribution later, probably in the form of laps.  But then he looked Pidge dead in the eyes and sighed dramatically.  “Guess I won’t share my new project, then.  Since you decided to be rude.”

True to Green Paladin form, Pidge visibly perked with curiosity.  “What project?”

Shrugging, Shiro sat back down and rolled the edge of his gobet, making the rest of the water slosh like a mini whirlpool.  “Nothing interesting.”

Pidge’s eyes narrowed dangerously.  “You deserved it.  I warned you.”

Without looking at her, Shiro nodded.  “Guess so.  Doesn’t mean I’m going to show you what I was making anymore.  You’ll have to go without.  Oh well.”

There was a long moment of silence, as Pidge weighed her enjoyment of his predicament versus how much it would suck to live with the curiosity.

Regardless of her choice, Shiro was going to show her.  There was no point otherwise.

But he had no qualms about using whatever advantage he could, with the four of them.

Finally, Pidge crossed her arms.  “If I fix it, will you show me?”

“Oh, of course,” Shiro replied, resting his chin on his natural palm.  “But I don’t really feel like sharing if I’m going end up sticking to the-”  He cut off suddenly, humming a few syllables, just to enjoy watching her face screw up at the tease.

Growling, Pidge sighed.  “Fine.”  Then she ducked under the table.  

A few moments later, a humming Shiro hadn’t even noticed cut off.  Then the silverware fell off his arm, and he could finally drop the goblet.

Rather than show Pidge, Shiro just sat back down and picked his spoon up.

Pidge huffed.  “Hey, we had a deal.”

“I haven’t had breakfast.  You can wait.”

“I can also turn the magnet back on.”

Shiro shrugged, uncaring.  “I’m holding the spoon already, I’m good.”

Crossing her arms tighter, Pidge sat back in her chair and scowled.

And he had been right.  This did not taste like oatmeal.  It kind of tasted like scrambled eggs with ketchup.  Which was fine with Shiro.

Settling down next to Shiro, Hunk pouted.  “Do I get to see?”

Shiro eyed him.  “What did I say about enabling?”

“That no one here needs the encouragement,” Hunk repeated back dutifully.  “But I didn’t do anything.  I just didn’t warn you..  That’s barely enabling.”

The look he got proved that Shiro considered it to be enough.  “You can wait till this afternoon with everyone else.”

Groaning, Hunk slumped against the table.  “Mean.”

“Always,” Shiro replied easily, ignoring both of their pouts as he cheerfully continued to eat.

Once he was done, Shiro nodded for Pidge to follow him.  She trotted by his heels as he made his way down the hall, then stopped at her room.

Pidge eyed him.  “Why is your project in my room?”

“It’s in any room,” Shiro replied. “This is just a good place.”

Frowning thoughtfully, Pidge opened the door for him.

The room was a mess of papers and projects, but Shiro refrained from comment.  He didn’t want to hurt the fragile truce before he could show Pidge what he’d worked on, and he suspected it was a genetic thing anyway.  Matt and Commander Holt were both hurricanes in their private space.

Pulling a little device out of his pocket, Shiro set it down on Pidge’s desk and lit it up.

It was a projection of the stars from last night, this time with all the constellations pre-marked.  Each had a faint image of their subject overlaid in pale, ethereal blue.

“Oh,” Pidge murmured, staring up.  Her eyes found Rover and stuck there.  “You...?”

Shiro hummed.  “I figured you’d want a way to keep an eye on Rover when we left this area.  It was a nice way of doing it.”

Nodding, Pidge blinked hard a couple of times.  Then she turned and wrapped him in a hug.  “Thank you.  This was good of you.  I’m sorry for making the magnet.”

“It was a clever revenge,” Shiro replied fondly.  “Let’s just not do it often, okay?”  She nodded, still not pulling away, and he rested his natural hand on her shoulder and squeezed.  

Finally pulling away, Pidge took a steadying breath.  Her eyes were a bit red, though Shiro couldn’t see any evidence of actual tears.  “Thank you.  For... not always acting like you think you should.  I like it when you play around with us.”

Shiro smiled back, his chest feeling like it was filed with something molten.  “You’re welcome.   And I’m glad.  It’s fun to be a bit...”

He trailed off, but they both knew what word he meant.

Brotherly.

“We’ll find him,” Shiro promised, voice quiet.  “Both of them.”

Pidge nodded and looked up, meeting his eyes.  “We will. And then Matt will take your side just to spite me, and I’ll have to get back at both of you.”

Snorting, Shiro smiled, because that was absolutely accurate.  “We’ll see,” he replied, which was a promise all on it’s own.

“Yeah.  We will.”  Pidge sat down on her bet, staring up at the constellations.  After a moment, Shiro sat down on the floor next to her legs and looked as well.

They both had training soon, and after that they had other projects.

But for now, they could take a couple of minutes just for this.  The universe could wait that long.


	4. It's Alright Cause I'm With Friends

Shiro woke slowly.

His ears rang.  He could hear voices, distant and murky as though he was listening from the bottom of a pond.  In front of his eyes, there was movement, but nothing he was aware enough to track.  It felt too far away.

What had happened?

Bit by bit, it occurred to Shiro that he wasn’t lying down.  He was sitting up and slumped over, leaning against something.  He shifted in confusion, trying to get a better picture of where he was, but something came up to still him.

An arm.

And judging by the color, it was Hunk’s.

Shiro heard Hunk speak, but couldn’t pick out the exact words.  His voice was still too muffled.  But Shiro could hear the worried tone, and that more than anything made him pick up his head.

Oh.  _ Oh. _  Maybe that was a bad idea.  Shiro felt woozy just from such a small movement.

And judging by Hunk’s expression, it didn’t really help anyway.

The arm around him tightened, dragging Shiro closer to Hunk’s bulk, and he could see the way Hunk’s face twisted in anger.  At first, Shiro paused, trying to remember what he’d done to upset Hunk that badly.

But then Shiro realized they were in a corner under fire, and figured Hunk was probably more upset about being shot at.

The ringing started to abate, and Shiro reached up with his right arm to rub over his ear.  It was jerky and awkward to move, and he heard it whine from the strain.  When he looked down, he saw it was covered in what looked like plaster dust.  Some must have gotten inside. Eugh.

When Shiro brushed the side of his head, he winced and groaned.  If being knocked out and his ringing ears weren’t enough proof, the sticky, raw side of his head showed he’d taken a nasty hit.

“Hey, don’t touch,” Keith muttered, making his presence known.  Shiro turned to look at him, wincing at the move, and then again as Keith pulled his arm away.  “I’m serious, you don’t want anything more in the wound.  Allura and Coran are coming, so stop messing with it.”

Shiro dropped his hand heavily and squinted, trying to look around again now that he was feeling a bit more stable.  “What happened?”  He asked.

Opening his mouth, Hunk grimaced and shook his head.  “One second.  Hold steady.”  Then he used his left leg to reangle his bayard and fired.  The noise of it bounced inside Shiro’s aching skull, and he groaned.  “Sorry!  Sorry, I- yeah.”  Hunk frowned, then swallowed.  “What do you remember last?”

“We...”  Shiro closed his eyes, thinking.  When he did, he felt something press against his temple, and he winced.  But he recognized the burn as anti-bacterial and settled.  Keith was just cleaning him up, it seemed.  “We were on the Castle and.... Wait, no.  The planet with the tall, grey people.”

Hunk hummed encouragingly.  “Right.  And they were having a civil war, remember?” When Shiro nodded, Keith grumbled darkly and held onto Shiro’s chin, holding him still while he kept wiping off the blood. “Well, someone decided today was a great day to bomb the capital. You got hit, but since we were inside, it wasn’t as bad as it could be.”

There were footsteps, and when Shiro opened his eyes, there were legs in front of him.  Then Lance popped into his field of vision, looking him over.  “Looks like they’ve given up trying to box us in for now.  Between me, Hunk and Pidge, we’ve got long and mid-range pretty well covered.  And we don’t run out of bullets.  How are you doing, there?”

Shiro blinked slowly.  “M’okay.”

Snorting, Lance shook his head.  “Yeah, sure, you’re peachy.  Then again, what can you expect?  We’ve got Keith on medic duty, here.”

Turning to look at him, Keith glared.  “You wanna trade, if you think I’m so bad at this?”

“Can’t,” Lance chirped, shrugging dramatically.  Hazily, Shiro thought it looked acted.  It took a moment for him to realize the snarking was for his benefit.  “They need me and my heroic shooting skills out there.  Shouldn’t have made your weapon a knife.”

Keith huffed but shook his head, visibly giving up.  He pulled out bandages from one of their first-aid kits and started to apply it to the side of Shiro’s face.

“Everyone’s okay?” Shiro asked, wincing when Keith pressed down.  He appreciated that he was helping, but Keith wasn’t great at gentle touches.  “Where’s Pidge?”

Ahead of him, behind a desk and what looked like part of what had been the outer wall, a green and white hand rose.  “Keeping an eye out.  I’m good.”

Lance nodded.  “Mostly just some scrapes.  And dirty.  We’re going to be digging dust out of these suits for weeks, dude.”

“You got it worst,” Hunk said.  “So just keep still for now, okay?  Allura and Coran are on their way.  ETA was fifteen minutes.”

Okay.  This was workable.  Shiro rolled his shoulders, trying to work out some of the ache, then started to push himself up.

Hunk’s arm held him firmly in place.

“Yeah, no,” Lance told him, somewhere between fond and annoyed.  “You’re not going anywhere until we’re sure your brain won’t be leaking out your ears when you stand up.”

Crinkling his nose at the image, Shiro snorted.  “And you plan on getting me the castle how, then?”

“Oh, I’ll carry you,” Hunk offered instantly.

Keith paused, frowning.  “But that doesn’t stop his brains from leaking out.”

Sharing a quick glance, Hunk and Lance both turned to stare at Keith, who frowned back.  “We’ll get a stretcher,” Hunk finally replied, tone slow.

Before Keith could respond, Pidge’s bayard crackled to life.  “Guys?”  She called, sounding unsure.  “I think someone- shit!”

Something fired.

It blasted over their heads and hit the far wall, blasting a clean hole through it.  But the sheer energy of it crackled in the air, and everyone ducked for cover to avoid both the shot itself, and the debris that followed.

“So it’s true, then,” someone drawled, stepping in through where the outerwall used to be.  They glanced around the room, head tilted.  “The paladins of Voltron are here after all.  There’s a hefty price on your heads, you know.  Dead or alive.”  The weapon in their hands was huge, larger than Hunk’s bayard, and he leveled it right at Shiro.  It hummed dangerously.  “They pay more for having the arm returned, but I’m not too fussed.  Putting down the famous Champion is too worth the satisfaction.”

There was a growl, and then Pidge’s bayard shot out and wrapped around the alien’s throat, yanking them back.  They stumbled but didn’t fall.   
  
But it didn’t matter, because Keith launched himself at the alien’s chest, just as Lance kicked out and hit him right at the ankle.  They went down hard, and Keith activated his bayard with a crackle, stabbing it down into the ground barely an inch from the alien’s head.  

“Do not touch Shiro,” he hissed, so angrily it barely sounded human.  “Don’t you  _ dare.” _

The alien couldn’t reply, voice still garbled.  They started to reach for the weapon again, but Lance shot it away coldly, and it flipped into the air and crashed down on the other side of the room, parts breaking off on impact.  Then he aimed it at the alien’s chest, expression still hard.

“You wanna get to him, you go through us,” Hunk told them, voice like steel.  He shifted, so he was in front of Shiro, cradling him close.

A shiver ran through Shiro.  He didn’t want them doing that for him.  He should be doing it for them.

But at the same time, it was amazing to see them stand up in instant, immediate defense for him.  

It felt good, to be reminded that they saw him as someone worthy of protection.

“Pidge?” Keith called, eyes still narrowed dangerously.

“Got it,” Pidge replied, and she activated the taser again.  The alien jerked, arching as the electricity ran through them, and then went still.

Standing, Keith rolled his shoulders and glared at the alien one last time, then turned and walked away.  As he passed Lance, he put a hand on his shoulder.  “He’s down,” he told him, nearly soft.

Lance’s eyes stayed locked on them.  “Just in case.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary,” Pidge replied. “I think I hear our ride.”

And Shiro closed his eyes, focusing on tuning out the background sounds of the battle.  He could hear some kind of engines, and they were getting loud fast.  Faster than someone driving along the road would be.

As the castle landed, Shiro closed his eyes and smiled.

It was nice to feel safe.


	5. Play Out In My Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Black Lion has something to show Shiro.

There was a rumble in Shiro’s chest.  A vibration like sitting in the cockpit of a plane with an impressive motor, the whole thing shaking so minutely it felt like the whole world was shivering around him.

Sitting up, he looked around.

Somehow, Shiro was in the hanger.  And not the large one they’d taken over for repairs, but the Black Lion’s personal section.

Strange.  How had he ended up here?  The last thing Shiro remembered was...

Was...

They’d been training all day, working with practicing linking up and staying focused in distracting situations.  In fact, Shiro had assigned Lance with the task of breaking their concentration by any non-physical means necessary.

He’d never seen Lance follow orders so quickly and eagerly before, even with their lives at stake.

Shiro shuddered at the memory. He’d closed his eyes to focus, only for Lance to blow in his ear.  Eugh.

But that night he’d gone to bed still thinking about the connection between pilot and lion.  And Shiro had laid in bed for a good couple of hours, inspecting the constant presence in the back of his head.  For all he accepted it, Shiro never fully grasped the bond, either.  He wasn’t sure his brain was capable of it.

But he wanted to.  Shiro had gone to Kerberos to explore, and to help understand the beginnings of their solar system, and the creation of the universe.  Most days he didn’t have the time or energy to indulge that curiosity.  But after a day of feeling it more clearly, he hadn’t been able to resist.

And then he’d fallen asleep.

“A dream,” Shiro guessed, standing.  “No more space goo before bed.”

The rumble shook his chest again, making Shiro pause and put his hand over his sternum.  

“Your diet has nothing to do with this.”  It was the rumbles made into words, feeling like it worked from inside of him out.  Shiro whirled around, startled by the sensation, and found the Black Lion behind him.  She was sprawled out, head down to ground level, so the glowing eyes were only a few feet above his head instead of a several stories.

Wait, did that even make sense?  Shouldn’t she be bigger?

Okay, Shiro was definitely dreaming, then.  He was pretty sure the lions couldn’t bend like that, too.

“You can talk?” He asked, tilting his head.

The lion tilted her head, mirroring him.  “Is that how you perceive me?”

Shiro’s brows raised and he eyed the lion blandly.  “Evidently.”

The long, mechanical tail lashed, tip twitching in what looked like irritation.  Maybe.  Frankly, Shiro didn’t really know Earth cat body language, much less Altean robot lion body language.

“It is based on your understanding of cat language,” the black lion informed him, a touch of something harsh in the ‘voice’.  “I told you, this is based on your perceptions, and that is what you know.”

That was... snippy for a dream.

“It is not a dream.”

Shiro scrubbed his face.  “Fine, okay, okay.  It’s not.” Goddamn space magic bullshit.  He’d never really get used to it.  “Then what is... this?” He made a general hand motion toward the hanger.

The black lion picked up her head and glanced around, then peered back down at him.  “The hangar.”  And before Shiro could do more than scowl at the response, there was another rumble.  Shiro finally registered it as a mental purr.  He was more used to the physical one of the lion’s engines.  “It is where you feel comfortable speaking with me.  And you wished to.”

Brow furrowed, Shiro tilted his head.  “I di- oh.”  Yeah, okay, so poking at the mental connection probably counted as paging the black lion.  “I wasn’t really trying to bother you, just trying to understand the connection better.  Sorry.”

“Do not apologize.  I would not have come if I did not also wish to communicate with you.  And you had reached a level where it took little effort to do so.”  The lion moved closer, until the giant metal muzzle was barely a foot from Shiro’s legs.

Reaching out, Shiro place a hand on the nose, just to see.  Rather than feeling cold as usual, the lion was warm as a living thing.  “Interesting.”  He moved closer, placing his other hand on it as well.  “What is this?”

“I am speaking with your unconscious mind, while your brain makes images that suit the information it’s getting.”

Shiro blinked.  “So, a dream.  Technically.”

The tail lashed again, and Shiro had the feeling that the black lion was stuck between amusement and annoyance.  “If you must.”

“It helps,” Shiro replied, shrugging.  “It makes it easier to not worry about the odd things.”

The rumble again, this time in intervals.  A laugh.  It felt strange.  “Whatever makes our speaking go more smoothly.  I do not wish to spend time on this, if we do not need to.  There is much we could be discussing.”

Shiro’s stomach twisted nervously, and he pulled his hands back.  The memory of floating through space, ejected from his lion came to mind, and he wondered if this was where the lion told him he was the inferior choice.

“No!”  The word was painfully loud, and Shiro took a step back, clutching at his chest.  “You are second choice only in a temporal sense.  We have bonded, and you are my Paladin.  I do not wish for another.”  A pause, almost sheepish.  “That is not what I wished to speak about.”

Rubbing at his chest, Shiro took a deep breath.  “Okay,” he replied, almost gasping the word.  “What, then?”

“This state is similar to what can be achieved with long practice,” the lion said to him, the words coming quickly, like she was trying to get passed the awkward moment as quickly and painlessly as possible.  “You are not ready to access it easily, but your focus and relaxed mind have made accessed something similar.  We can take advantage.  I would like to explore that with you.”

Oh.  Shiro straightened up and set his shoulders.  Right.  Even if he was asleep, he should be mastering what it meant to be the Black Paladin in any way available to him.  “We should,” he agreed, tone deepening.

But the lion only stared at him, head tilted.  “I did not mean to cause you shame.  Only to answer your curiosity.”

Pausing, Shiro relaxed his shoulders and frowned.  “Oh.  But it’s still true.”

“Perhaps,” the lion allowed.  “So long as you understand my goal is not to scold you, but to teach you.  Now, let’s begin.”

Shiro’s eyes opened.

Not in the dream, but in reality.

His head looked around, which was such an odd, strange sensation that at first he mentally bucked, uncomfortable.  But then the purr-rumble filled him, filling him with the black lion’s reassurance and comfort, and he relaxed.

“I’m sorry,” the lion said. It was out of Shiro’s mouth, which made him shiver again, though less this time.  “It is part of what I can do with you.  Showing you is more effective than telling.  We can stop.”

Shiro considered, then shook his head.  In reality, he didn’t move.  He was a passenger in his own body, if a comfortable one.  And the one in control would listen to him.  That, he didn’t doubt.  The tentative, early stages of guilt showed that easily enough.  “Give it another moment.  What did you want to show me?”

The black lion tilted Shiro’s head, as if considering the truth of his words.  Then they looked toward the wall.

It looked the same as normal, but Shiro could see red on the edges of his vision, and he knew without a single doubt he was looking right at Keith through the walls.

Oh.  Well that was useful.

“Your job is to keep watch of the paladins, just as mine is to watch the lions,” Shiro’s own voice told him.  It wasn’t quite flat, but the vocal patterns were obviously not his.  Which was odd, but getting less uncomfortable by the second.  “This is to aid in that, in an emergency.”

Shiro mentally nodded and settled back.  He trusted the black lion, and so this was something he could deal with.  So long as he could veto any actions, anyway.  “Like with the ritual a few months back.”

“Yes.”  Looking around, the lion frowned.  “The blue and yellow paladins are not in their rooms.”

Snorting, Shiro shook his head.  “Not Pidge too?  Well, there’s that, at least.  Can you tell where they are?”

The lion leaned forward and squinted.  “I believe that is the kitchen.  I cannot tell through your eyes, exactly.”  Then she paused.  “I could look at the security cameras, if you like?”

“No,” Shiro replied.  “The kitchen sounds right.  I’ll track them down later and make sure they get to bed.”

The black lion considered that, and then stood.

Shiro jolted, because he hadn’t known the lion could do that.  Maybe it was silly, but sitting up and looking around felt fundamentally different from actually getting up and walking.

“Why?” The lion asked, opening Shiro’s door and walking about.  Her footsteps were much quieter than Shiro’s usual gait, nearly silent.  Which was impressive, given his weight and the metal of his arm.

The thought earned him a quiet snort.  “You weigh much less than I do, and have much less metal.”

Shiro nodded.  “Fair enough.  This is still weird, though.”

“This is for emergencies, usually,” she told him.  “If for some reason you can physically walk, but cannot.”

“Okay,” Shiro replied, drawing the word out.  “But I can walk now.  Mentally.”

The black lion snorted.  “Yes, but I won’t be able to do it later.  So now I’m showing you.”  Pausing outside the kitchen, she frowned.  “Unless you want me to stop?”

Shiro considered.  He honestly didn’t mind this more than the talking, but it was still strange.  “I can live with it.”

“That is not a yes or no,” the black lion muttered.  “You are not very good at this.”

The blunt wording was enough to make Shiro jolt.  Part of it was that he genuinely wasn’t used to people telling him he was doing a bad job.  Which, absurdly, made him feel better about this.  The black lion was blunt and honest, and he appreciated that.  It meant Shiro could trust her when she gave her word.

“Go ahead,” he replied.  “I want to see with it looks like up close.”

Shiro’s lips curled into a smile, tugged up by the Black Lion, as he walked into the kitchen.

Lance and Hunk were settled at the table, and bowl of some kind of snack in front of them.  Up close, the colors were brighter, just shy of actively distracting, and they blended into green at the edges. 

Both were facing away from the door, which meant that they didn’t see them coming.  And without Shiro’s usual louder gait...

“Why are you not asleep?”

The pair jumped nearly a foot in the air, and Lance practically crawled onto the table to get away.  

Hunk whirled around and rested an arm pseudo-casually against the table.  “Shiro!  Hey.  W-what are you doing up?”

“That is not an answer to my question,” the black lion replied, head tilted.  “Why are you not asleep?”

The pair shared a glance, frowning, then looked back.  “Neither of us could sleep, so we figured we’d catch up,” Lance replied, his tone a touch slow.  “You feeling okay, Shiro?  You sound funny.”

Straightening, the black lion nodded.  “My paladin is in good health.”

“Wait, your pa-”  Hunk frowned, then squinted.  “What now?”

“My paladin is in good health,” she repeated, tone so identical it could have been a recording.

Mentally, Shiro sighed.

Lance’s eyes went wide.  “You’re the- you can do that?  Can all the lions do that?”

“In an emergency.”

Pausing, Hunk frowned. “What kind of emergency?  Is everything okay? I mean, I know you just said he’s in good health but that doesn’t always mean- I mean, Shiro has other stuff.  Is he okay?”

Well, okay was a relative term.  Shiro was fine, except that apparently his paladins were so hyper aware of his mental problems that they immediately jumped to that conclusion.  Which was not at all comforting.

The black lion shook their head.  “He is fine.  Though he is now embarrassed.”  Shiro’s horror at the comment made her pause.  “And now he is upset I said so. I do not understand.”  She frowned vaguely at the table, then focused on Lance and Hunk again.  “We were testing, there was not a need for it.”

“He is aware still, right?” Lance asked carefully.  “You said he heard you.  Shiro, you okay?”

The black lion nodded easily.  “Yes, he is still aware.  I do not think he’d be comfortable otherwise.”

Okay, she really needed to stop with the extra comments.

“Why?”

Because it was more than they needed to hear, that was why!

Frowning, the black lion tilted their head.  “I did not say anything they were not already aware of.”

That was besides the point!  There were things Shiro wanted to keep to himself, dammit.

“Like what?”

Like every time he had a reaction to a damn comment, for one.

A hand waved in front of his eyes made them both start, and Lance paused.  “Okay, hi there.  Sorry to interrupt.  Maybe you wanna sit down?  ‘Cause this is weird.”

The black lion paused and frowned, no doubt unused to being told to do something.  But she sat down with a huff, flopping bonelessly back in the chair.  Shiro’s back was going to feel that position in the morning if it held for long.  “I do not understand.”

“Well,” Hunk said, his expression a strange mix of wary and amused.  “Shiro’s a private guy.  I don’t think he’d like you sharing his thoughts.”

In response, the black lion arms crossed her arms.

Shiro groaned.  “Stop pouting with my face.”

“I am not pouting,” she muttered back.

“You’re kind of pouting,” Lance replied, shrugging.

Hunk nodded. “Yeah, that’s a pout.”

In response, the black lion pouted harder.

Scrubbing over his face, Hunk sighed.  “This is super weird.”

“It’s pretty funny, honestly,” Lance replied.  He scooted his chair closer to them, lips curled up at the edges.  “Is touching a no-no right now?”

The black lion tilted their head, waiting for Shiro’s input.

“Within the usual boundaries,” Shiro replied, unsure where Lance was going with this, and the black lion repeated it.

Reaching up, Lance hesitated, and then ran his fingers through the hair behind Shiro’s ear, like he was scratching a pet.

The black lion closed their eyes and leaned into it, humming contentedly.

“Woah, hey.  How about we not do that?” Shiro replied, mentally shaking his head.

Frowning, the lion huffed.  “Why not?  It feels nice.”

How about because Shiro wasn’t a damn house cat?

Ignoring him, the black lion relaxed into the table, open luxuriating in the petting.  Instead she sent him a warm, smug feeling.  They both liked it, and so she was going to keep the petting going, so there.

Damn cat.

Lance made a gleeful noise and rubbed harder.  “Hunk, try this.”

“Dude, I don’t want to die at training tomorrow.  Pass.”

Shiro scowled and crossed his mental arms.  “Tell Lance I’ll get him back for this.”

The black lion repeated his words dutifully, if with a sleepy, contented note that was definitely not in the original message.

“Yeah, okay.  But worth it.  You remember this, if someone asks who your favorite paladin is, okay?”  Lance grinned down at them.

Frowning thoughtfully, the black lion’s brows furrowed.  “Shiro is my favorite paladin,” she replied plainly, eying Lance like she wasn’t sure what his goal was.

Hunk made a soft noise and his hand came up to cover his mouth.  When both (or, rather, all three of them) looked at him, he shrugged.  “It was cute.  The tone, coming from Shiro.”

Okay, Hunk was on Shiro’s shitlist too.  But, seriously, it was time to have dignity again, please.

“Fine,” the black lion sighed, sitting back up.  “You should not be awake.  Your bodies are organic and require daily rest.”

Lance blinked.  “That was the strangest way I’ve ever been told to get my ass to bed.”

Standing, Hunk took the bowl of... whatever it was and poured the rest back into its container.  Then he placed the bowl in the cleaning unit (not a sink, Coran had told Shiro more than once).  “Okay, we do need to try and get a couple of hours.  I’m guessing you’re going back to bed too?  Or, uh... I mean, I guess you don’t sleep.  But Shiro needs to.”

“Yes, we will sleep,” the black lion replied, and Shiro felt his lips curl fondly at them.  “After you are asleep in your own rooms.  Time to go.”

“Okay, okay,” Lance replied.  “We’re going.  Jeez, that’s a guilt incentive if I’ve ever heard one.  ‘Go to bed or else Shiro doesn’t get to sleep’.  Have you met my sister or something?”

The blank lion paused.  “I have not.”

“That’s- don’t worry about it, we’re going, we’re going.  Have a good night.”  

Hunk patted them on the arm as he passed.  “Please don’t keep experimenting all night.  You tell Pidge and me it’s a bad idea enough that you should know better.”

The black lion nodded in response, and they both slipped out. Shiro could see their colors shifting as they moved.   “Going to sleep will be good.  And there’s one more thing we can try, too.”

Shiro paused, interested.  “Yeah?  What are you thinking?”

“I can affect your dreams,” the black lion replied plainly. “Since I am already here, you will sleep soundly tonight without interruption.”

Squirming uncomfortably at even the oblique reference to his nightmares, Shiro mentally closed his eyes.  Which was odd, because he could still see.  “Thank you,” he finally replied, because that was useful. It would make up for what they’d lost doing this.

“It is not something to be ashamed off.”  The black lion started for the door, scanning to make sure everyone was in their rooms now.  They were, though Lance and Hunk were still moving, no doubt getting ready for bed.  “They are common in response to what you have been through.”

Still, it wasn’t something Shiro wanted out in the open.  He’d rather lick his wounds in peace.

“I apologize,” the lion responded, and she was getting better at modulating tone, because she actually sounded sorry.  “But I wished to let you know.”

She was trying to help.  She  _ was _ helping, even, or would be shortly.  Shiro was just...

Like Hunk said, he was private.  He didn’t like having everything aired like that.

“They will not think less of you,” the black lion told him.  “I do not.”

...That did help.  But not all the way.  

The black lion opened the door to Shiro’s room and laid back down.  “I will remember that next time,” she promised.  “For now, you must sleep.”

And Shiro did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The result of idle curiosity about what, exactly, these connections can do. Plus I like the idea of certain back-ups if need be.
> 
> Actually, no, I lied. I mostly thought it would be amusing.


	6. Giving Up the Ghost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snow Day

It had gotten cold.

When the team had been driven up to this cabin, it was supposed to only be for the evening.  They’d agreed to take the ride instead of flying up due to the rough, rugged terrain of the mountain.  While the winds and temperatures didn’t matter to the lions, but a lack of a place to land did.

Shiro hadn’t been fond of the idea, but apparently it was tradition.  And no one had questioned that they still wore the armor or kept their weapons.  So it was a risk, but a calculated one.  And after all the effort to tear out the Galra outpost on this planet, it seemed silly for the locals to immediately turn around and attack them.

So Shiro had swallowed his misgivings and up they’d gone, including Allura and Coran.

And it had gone fine.  There was food and drinks, and words of thanks to the team for helping them.  Fairly standard, as far as ‘helping aliens buck their overlords and being thanked for it’ went.

But by then it had gotten dark, and the leader had offered for them to use the cabin as a place to stay, since they didn’t have lodgings.  And sure, if they really wanted to, they could head back down, but it was unnecessarily dangerous to travel down a mountain face in the dark.  But not to worry, the cabin would be all to themselves, and the leader and her group would take the other one down the road.  Why didn’t they just get comfy?

So they had.  It was all true, and it wasn’t worth the risk of trying to get back down without an emergency.

And now it was cold. Noticably colder than it had been.  And darker, despite the fact that the sun should have risen by now.

Shiro blinked sleep from his eyes as he walked to the window and pulled back the curtain.

There was no view.  Just a white mass.

Snow.

They had managed to sleep through a blizzard, unaware except for a slight temperature drop.

Well, damn.

“Shiro?” Keith muttered, sticking his head out from under a pillow.  Shiro had no earthly idea how he managed to sleep with something over his head like that.  “Something wrong?  The alarm didn’t go off yet.”

“I don’t think we have to worry about leaving on time anymore,” Shiro murmured back, trying to keep his voice low.

But that was a wasted effort.  Ears twitching, Allura sat up.  Her hair was mussed into a white cloud around her head, and Shiro suspected that it had to have some property that allowed it to ignore gravity.  “Why not?” She asked, voice clear and awake even if her appearance wasn’t.

“We’re not going anywhere.”  He pulled back the curtain the rest of the way.

Pidge hissed and pulled the blanket over her.  “No, too early!”  But then she paused and blinked blearily.  “S’not bright?”

“What is that?” Hunk asked, sitting up as well.  His hair flopped strangely, and it took Shiro a moment realize it was because he’d taken off his headband to sleep.

Lance’s eyes went wide.  “Is that snow?”

Eyes widening, Hunk glanced at Lance, and then at Shiro, as if he were the Snow Expert and could verify that for him.  “Really?”  He sounded as excited as little kid.

It occurred to Shiro that Hunk may have never actually experienced a snow day before, or at least only on rare occasions.

Not that Shiro had many either, come to think of it.

“That’s quite a lot,” Coran murmured, brows up.  “All overnight?  The soundproofing on this building is excellent.  Or I’ve got quite the build-up.”  His ears twitched as he scratched at the base.

“Definitely well made,” Shiro agreed.  “It makes me wonder what else we might not have heard.”

Allura frowned thoughtfully, and Keith sat up, shoulders tensed as he stared at the window.

Lance, on the other hand, threw off his covers cheerfully.  “Only one way to find out, right?  Let’s go outside.”

“We do have the armor,” Pidge added.  “It’s good for cold temperatures.”

“Are you sure?  Is it still windy out there?  Is it safe?”  Hunk wrapped his blanket around his shoulders and stood up, walking over to stand next to Shiro and peer out.  Despite his words, he mostly looked fascinated.

Grinning, Lance started to pull on his armor undersuit over his boxers and t-shirt.  “Nothing for it but to go look, right?”

Coran eyed them all like they had all lost their minds.  “You want to go out in  _ that?” _

“Yes,” Pidge replied promptly.  “We do.”

Scrunching up his face, Keith didn’t argue, but he didn’t agree either.

“Well, this place isn’t that big,” Shiro mused.  “If anyone leaves all the warm air is going to escape.”  And that meant...  He sighed.  “So everyone suit up.”

Ears actually drooping, Allura eyed the window nervously.  “Perhaps you all can go outside and Coran and I will stay in, and we will bundle up.”

Hunk frowned at them, head tilted.  “Did Altea not get snow?”

“Ice precipitation?  No.  It would occasionally get cold enough for it, but those times were exceptionally rare,” Coran replied, as he bundled up his own clothes to go change.

Hunk nodded in solemn empathy.  “But is it, like, bad for you?”

Allura sighed.  “We’d survive.”  She didn’t sound particularly happy about it.

“Well, then, let us show you how it’s done!” Lance declared, already mostly into his armor.

“We should at least look at how bad the damage is,” Shiro agreed, sighing as well.  He didn’t mind the cold in the way the Alteans seemed to, but this was such a bother.  If it was so bad that the drifts came up to the windows, there was no way there were going to be able to get back down the mountain.

Feeling uncomfortably contained, Shiro bundled up his armor and walked off to the bathroom to change, and heard the chaos of everyone else (except Lance) scrambling to do the same.

Within ten minutes, they were all assembled again.  Coran had grabbed his blanket and had it draped around his shoulders as an extra layer, and he was murmuring to Allura, probably trying to get her to do the same.

“Can’t you just shift into something better for the cold?” Keith asked, head tilted.

Allura shook her head.  “The changes are, for the most part, cosmetic.  Occasionally certain attributes will pass on, but my physiology is still Altean.”

“It’ll only be a little while,” Lance sing-songed  “C’mon, let’s go!” Walking to the door, he threw it open, already grinning.

Only for that smile to slip off when he saw the white wall outside, completely blocking the entranceway

Yelping, Lance closed it again.  “I don’t think we can go out that way.”

“That’s amazing,” Hunk muttered, eyeing the door with something like fearful respect.

Pidge glanced between them both, snorting.  “What did you expect?”

Arching a brow, Lance shrugged. “I grew up on a tropical island.  What do I know?”

“Same,” Hunk agreed, bobbing his head in a nod.

Sighing, Pidge turned to look at Keith and Shiro.  “Please tell me you guys know what you’re doing.”

Shiro shook his head.  “I spent most of my childhood in L.A.”

“I’ve had snow days, but nothing like this,” Keith responded, then set his jaw.

Considering that was one of the most informational things Shiro had ever heard Keith say about pre-Garrison life, the sudden quiet wasn’t surprising.

Pidge shook her head.  “Alright.  You’ve got to go around the back door to get out, then dig your way to the door.  We’re probably facing the wind, to get that much snow.”  Turning, she marched through the halls to the other side of the house and unlatched it.  On this side, the snow only came up to about her hips, or to everyone else’s thighs.

Well, only.

Stepping out, Pidge trudged her way through, lifting her legs as far out of the banks as she could rather than just kick her way through.  Lance burst out after her, without nearly the same level of care or strategy, followed closely but Hunk.

“It look so  _ cool,” _ Hunk murmured, hands on his cheeks.   Shiro could see how wide his eyes were, even under the visor of his helmet.  “And, I mean, literally.  Though it’s not that bad out here, actually.  It’s cold, but...”

Coran gave him a look like Hunk had lost his mind.  “Not that cold?  It’s below freezing temperatures.  That’s more than cold.”

“To be fair, we barely feel it,” Shiro responded.  “And below freezing is a fairly common temperature on our planet.”

Shaking her head, Allura stepped out and frowned when her dress caught the snow like a shovel.  “I fail to see the enjoyment, to be quite honest.”

That made Lance grin, showing off all his teeth.  “Oh, give it a minute.”

“Looking around first,” Shiro reminded firmly.  If this broke out into games, they wouldn’t get anything done.  “Let’s see what we’re working with here.”

They made their slow way back around to the front of the cabin.  From there, Shiro could see across the field, and saw the locals out and about as well.  They looked perfectly content and bundled, and not even a little surprised.

“Hello!”  Brantac, their gude, called.  She waved cheerfully.  “Seems we had a surprise!  It’s early in the season yet, or else I wouldn’t have invited you down without means of travel.”

Fighting back a sharp response, Shiro nodded.  “Understandable,” he managed.  “But we weren’t prepared for this kind of weather.  Would you happen to have extra clothing for Coran and Allura?”

Brantac considered, then nodded.  “Yes, I think we can find something for you.  That clothing isn’t at all practical for this.”

Looking back, Shiro saw the quick flash of irritation on Allura’s face, but it quickly smoothed back over.  “We were all caught by surprise.”

“Well, come back to ours and we’ll fix you up,” Brantac responded, nodding.  “I suggest the rest of you get cozy.  Tomorrow it should warm up enough to get out, but I don’t think we’re budging today.”

And that was that.  Shiro sighed and nodded.  This was time they couldn’t afford, but there wasn’t anything he could do about that.  “Alright.  Thank you for letting us know.”

Brantac eyed him sympathetically.  “Sorry for the trouble.  But, if you don’t mind me saying, you all look like you could use a good day off.  Consider it a break.”

“Snow day!” Lance crowed, throwing his hands up.  “I always wanted one of these.”  And before Shiro could say anything, he bent down, scooped up a handful of snow, and packed into a ball.  Then he lobbed it at Keith’s head.

It exploded against Keith’s shoulder, making him cry out.  “Lance!”

And there they went. Shiro ran a hand along the back of the helmet.  “I think they’re a bit ahead of you.  Thank you.”

With a final wave and a smile, Brantac led the shivering Coran and Allura back to the other cabin.  He watched with a careful eye as they were brought inside, still feeling uneasy.  Then he turned to eye his team.

In the ten seconds he’d been looking away, Keith had managed to start shoving handfuls of snow against Lance’s visor.  As Shiro watched, Hunk snuck up behind them, already grabbing a huge armful of snow, no doubt preparing to dump the whole thing on top of them both.

Well, if Shiro had any hopes of salvaging the day into something useful, they were officially dashed.  He closed his eyes, and heard both Keith and Lance’s cries as they were buried.  

“Guys,” he started, only to be cut off when something smacked into the back of his helmet.  Shiro whirled around, hands on his hips, and Pidge smiled back at him.  Her arms were folded behind her back, and she rocked back and forth from her toes to her heels.  The only way she could look more suspicious is if she was whistling as well a jaunty tune.

Tilting her head at him, Pidge blinked.  “Yes?  Did you need something.”

Shiro’s expression twisted and he brushed show off his helmet.  “Was that necessary?”

“Was what necessary?”

Shooting her a bland look, Shiro opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off by a yell.  He whipped back around and saw Lance wrapped around Hunk’s back like a koala, tugging on his side in an attempt to unbalance him.  The cry came from Keith, who had suffered a direct hit to the face from a snowball.  And when his helmet had come off, Shiro couldn’t have said.

Another snowball hit him in the back of the head.

Shiro froze, then turned around inch by dangerous inch.  “Pidge.”

“Can I help you?” She tilted her head like a confused puppy.  

Shiro took a deep breath, calming the wave of irritation.  “I don’t know what you think you’re going to gain from this.”

“I’m not sure there’s anything to gain,” Pidge replied, shrugging.  “I’m just hanging around.  Nothing much else to do.”

Narrowing his eyes, Shiro huffed.  “And your idea of hanging around is...?”

Pidge bent down and packed a snowball, tossing it between her hands.  “Passing the time.”

And then she threw it at Shiro’s helmet.

He smacked it out of the air before it could touch him.

Pidge’s eyes widened.  “You-”

That surprise kept her from reacting in time when Shiro suddenly charged forward, eyes narrowed.  She had no defense prepared when Shiro heaved her up like a sack of potatoes, then tossed her bodily into one of the larger drifts.

Shiro paused, catching himself.  He could already see Pidge kicking in the snow, trying to get upright again, and he knew the move couldn’t have hurt her.  He wouldn’t have done it if it could.  But, really, he shouldn’t have risen to that bait, and he  _ definitely  _ shouldn’t have escalated.

Sighing, Shiro stepped closer and held out his hand for her to take.  “Are you-”

Pidge popped up and wrapped one arm around Shiro’s chest.  Then she grabbed onto his shoulder and yanked him forward, shoving him face-first into the snow.

Okay, screw it.

“You know this means war,” he muttered.  The mic would pick up his words, despite his head being several inches deep in the snow.  Then Shiro shoved himself up, aware that the snow would slide off of his armor like a monster rising from a lake in a corny movie. 

Pidge shrieked.  She tried to scramble away. But Shiro grabbed her ankle and dragged her back, shoving her further into the hole she’d made when she originally landed.

Before he could figure out what to do next - really, tussling like this was less satisfying when there weren’t places to shove the snow into - Pidge held her her hand.  “Wait!”  Tugging off her helmet, she grinned at him, showing all her teeth.  “Why are we fighting?”

“Because you threw snowballs at the back of my head,” Shiro replied blandly.  “Pretty low.”

“First of all, you clearly don’t understand the etiquette of a snowball fight.  Leave it to the professionals.”  She flapped a dismissive hand at him. “Second of all, I mean why are we fighting each other when we could be destroying them?”  She pointed at the other three.

By that point, Hunk had managed to shake off Lance, and he was face down in a snowdrift, pulling himself out.  Without the distraction, Hunk had managed to retaliate against Keith, using his huge hands to pack massive snowballs and lob them with impressive strength.  Keith had totally given up returning fire and was scrambling for cover.

Shiro was almost proud.  Keith was finally learning when to go on the defensive.  

“You have a point,” Shiro admitted.  “You have a plan?”

Pidge grinned.  “How about we make a bunch, then you carry me on your shoulders while I pelt them?”

Considering, Shiro tilted his head.  He suspected she mostly wanted to be carted around, and she figured Shiro holding her up meant he would take all the hits.

Well, she could think that. Shiro had plans of his own.

“Alright,” he agreed, shrugging. She beamed, and they both packed an armful of snowballs for ammo.  Then she climbed up, and Shiro lurched to his feet.

Lobbing one of the snowballs, Pidge nailed Hunk in the back of his helmet.  “Heads up!”

Staring at them, Lance groaned.  “Oh hell no.”

“Nah, they’re top heavy,” Keith disagreed.  “This’ll be easy.”

Pidge hit him next.  “You think so?”

“Get ‘em, Hunk!” Lance called, already starting to pack his own snowballs.

Hunk grinned.  “On it!”  He threw one of his own directly at Shiro’s chest, probably looking to unbalance them.

Except Shiro crashed to his knees, ducking down, and the snowball caught Pidge in the stomach instead.  Then he let go, and she windmilled as she toppled backwards into the snow.

Keith burst into laughter.  “That didn’t take long, did it?”

“Hey!”  Pidge scrambled back up and shoved a handful of snow against Shiro’s back.  He braced himself against her assault, refusing to move.  “What was that for?”

“First you attack me, then you think you’ll use me as a shield?” Shiro shot back, turning to pin her with a look.  “Really?”

Pidge crossed her arms.  “Maybe.”

Spotting movement out of the corner of his eye, Shiro rolled sideways, getting out of the way right before Lance could catch him with another snowball.  That hit Pidge too, and she yelled in outrage. 

“Sorry!” Lance called, though he was laughing too.  “Oh, man, that was actually pretty slick.”  He tilted his head at Pidge.  “Wanna join our side?”

Standing, Pidge stomped her way over.  “Hell, yes.  Let’s get him.”

Uh oh.

Shiro scrambled up and ran, while Keith started to throw a hail of snowballs at him.  “You really think you guys can beat me?”

“Yes!” Hunk replied.  “Or, actually?  I don’t think we have to.”

Pausing at the odd phrase, Shiro stared at all four of them.  Then he followed their gazes past him.

And a huge mound of snow caught him in the face.

Shiro’s footing slipped, and he crashed down hard on his back, sputtering.  None of it got on his face with the visor up, but it still wasn’t comforting to suddenly have his vision totally greyed out.  Shaking his head, he looked up and saw Allura grinning at him.

She and Coran had changed into the dress of the locals, if with a couple more layers than anyone else had sported.  And she tossed a snowball in her hands, grinning widely, while Coran packed another behind her.  “What an intriguing battle you have here.  It would be a shame if it were to be interrupted by superior warriors.”

“Guys?” Shiro called, eyes narrowed.

Laughing, Lance stepped forward, armed with his own stock of snowballs.  “We’ve got your back, Shiro.”

Coran snorted, all playful arrogance.  “You all think you stand a chance?”

“Says the guy who couldn’t stand upright for shivering thirty minutes ago,” Pidge shot back.

Allura huffed.  “It’s tolerable with the right equipment.  And if you all can managed, certainly we can.  Though it’s all very easy for you to brush off when you’re wearing armor.”

“Sounds like you should be more prepared,” Shiro drawled back, taking Keith’s hand and getting to his feet.  “We can’t help it if you’re not up to snuff.”

That earned him two pairs of narrowed eyes.

And then war broke loose.

***

Several hours later, two separate snowball fights, a snowman and a snow Altean later, they were all back in the cabin.  It turned out to be stocked with round, dark blocks that reminded Shiro of charcoal, and soon they had a nice fire going.

“Still upset about the lost day?” Keith asked him, sipping at the warm drinks they’d been provided.  It tasted like warm cider, though not like apples.  What fruit it used instead, Shiro had no name or comparison for.

Shiro hummed.  “A little.  We have a lot to do.”  But he looked over the room, where Allura was sitting with Hunk and Pidge, swapping childhood stories about bad weather days, while Lance and Coran discussed if Lance should try and grow out a beard (oh, boy).  “But this was good.”

“It was,” Keith replied.  “We all needed it.”

Yeah, they had.  

And Shiro hated to admit it, but he had as well.  And maybe that was why it he’d been so resistant.  Admitting it was half the problem.

But this was necessary.  For him just as much as anyone else.

“Think we can take a few jugs of this stuff with us?” Shiro asked, just to change the topic.  “It’s nice.”

Keith shrugged.  “Probably.  You just need to ask.”

Hm.  Words to live by.  


	7. I Might Just Disappear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU Day - Winter Soldier

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thanks to Spiderdreamer for reminding me that Winter Soldier Shiro was a thing that used to be a thing at just the right time.

It had been one month, two weeks, and 3 days since it happened.

Keith knew, since he’d counted each day.

Their mission had been a trap.  They’d gone after the distress signal of a planet and landed to investigate and offer aid.  Something they’d done dozens of times before.

Instead, the locals had lead them on a merry chase through the jungle after some supposed beast or monster, only to have them ambushed.

Most of them had gotten away.

Shiro hadn’t.  And the last thing they’d all heard was Shiro cutting through the helmet, so they couldn’t track the rest of them.

After that, nothing.

One month, two weeks and three days of nothing. Almost 50 days without Shiro.

The black lion wouldn’t open at all.  Not for repairs, not in response to Allura, not for any of them.  Just a total shutdown.

According to Allura and Coran, that was unheard of.  The lions were designed to transfer to new paladins, in the event of someone being somehow unable to resume their duties.  Voltron was necessary to the universe at large.

And Keith had heard them talking about it, one night.  Because he hadn’t sleep well, those first couple of weeks.  No one had.

“Perhaps it’s to do with the connection?” Coran had murmured to Allura, voice low and raw.  “If Zarkon was able to overpower it while Voltron was formed, perhaps he’s using Shiro as a conduit now somehow.”

Allura had been silent for a long time.  “Perhaps.  Who knows what tools the Druids have at their disposal?  We don’t know if the problem is with Shiro, with the black lion, or something else.”

Before he could hear more, Keith had walked away, stomach twisting into awful knots.

But Keith had also done this before.  He’d  _ known _ that Shiro was alive and out there after the Kerberos Mission, that what they were told wasn’t the end.  So he picked himself up and he kept going.

And not one of the Galra they’d met had brought it up. Surely, if Shiro had been executed or forced to fight or anything, it would have been made a spectacle.  After all, Shiro was the one that had escaped, was the Champion.  It was a name that held weight.  Zarkon would want to use to it cement his position.  The fact that they hadn’t said a word meant...

Well, Keith didn’t know what it meant.  He hoped it was a good thing.  But he doubted it.

But even if they didn’t have Voltron, they still had the lions.  They still had their duties.  So they kept to the outskirts of Zarkon’s territory, avoiding the worst of the fights and doing what they could while they figured out what the hell to do about the black lion and their jobs.

And they planned.

The paladins planned obsessively.  Pidge combed through all the data they collected, over and over and over, looking for some hint as to what they’d do to Shiro.  They had all read dozens of reports for various, similar scenarios, trying to figure out a pattern would give them a better idea what had happened.  Of where Shiro might be.  Of how they could go  _ get him back.. _

It didn’t pan out much, but at least Pidge had something to do.  It kept her calmer.  Because Keith was pretty sure if Pidge slowed down she was going to lose it.  Shiro was one person too many for her.

Shiro was one person to many for all of them, really.  

Today had been a quieter day.  Mind, every day in the past 49 was quieter, except when it was meaner.  They still fought amongst themselves, still trained and stuck together, but Keith felt... ungrounded.  Even while they all clustered together codependently, afraid of losing another, there were edges that had once slotted together but now clashed and scraped.

More accurately, today hadn’t had a mission.  Instead they’d trained under Allura for the morning, then spent lunch pouring over some recent invention of Hunk’s, made to deactivate any kind of computerized handcuff.  “We can keep one of these in the lions,” he said, head tilted as he ran through the logistics.  “And we can use them during our own missions, since that sort of stuff happens way too of-”

The alarm had cut him off.  “Paladins.” Allura’s voice echoed through the castle’s intercoms.  “We’ve received a distress signal from Langara.  They’ve come under attack.”

“Seriously?” Lance groaned, standing and heading toward the hangers.  “We just freed them.”

Pidge shrugged.  “Well, the Galra can’t let them all sit after that, right?  It looks bad if they keep losing territory.”

They were close enough that the wormhole jump only took a few seconds, and then they headed out.

“According to the information we’re receiving, it’s a small group on the outskirts of the city,” Coran told them.  “Actually, I’m not sure how good this is. This doesn’t seem right.”

Keith’s brow furrowed.  “Why?”

“It says there’s only one soldier there.  But that makes no sense, especially considering the damage reports coming in.”

That really was nonsensical.  Unless the assailant was literally the only one left after an attack from the team, Keith had never seen one alone.

“We’ll be careful,” Lance promised.  “No taking anything for granted.”

That was for sure.

For a small group in an area with buildings and people, the lions were a bad choice.  They’d do more damage than help.  So they landed as close as they could and headed out to the town.

It was quieter than Keith had expected.  It seemed most of the inhabitants had fled by then, or at least found some kind of out of sight shelter.  And so the streets were near totally deserted.  While there was evidence of a fight earlier, from blasted holes in the walls to overturned carts, there was no combat happening now.

In fact, there was only one person standing in the road.

One human.

Keith’s chest clenched so tightly he couldn’t breathe.  Because even wearing unfamiliar armor, he recognized that back.  He recognized the back of the head, even when the hair had grown out an inch or two.

That wasn’t a Galra soldier.  That was Shiro.

Standing calm and near perfectly still in a warzone.  Almost completely unruffled.

Alarm bells warred with the sudden surge of hope and relief in Keith’s chest.  Why was Shiro here?  Had he escaped again?  What was he doing in that armor?

Stepping forward, eyes wide, Hunk called out.  “Shiro?”

There was a head tilt in return, but not like recognition.  Like hearing a sound and reacting to it.  The movement was abrupt and too smooth, like an automation.

Reaching out, Keith grabbed Hunk and pulled him back in line with the rest of them.  

Then Shiro turned around.

Somehow, Keith had expected his eyes to be different.  He didn’t know why, but for a moment he’d believed Shiro would have the same featureless yellow eyes as a Galra.  But it was still a normal, human gaze, the same dark color as ever.  His expression wasn’t even strange.  Tired, but calm.  Deep bags but mostly unruffled.

Except Keith had never seen Shiro look that blank before.  Never seen such a complete lack of compassion and empathy.  Never seen the gaze they usually looked at them so fondly could feel like steel, like a blade at his throat.

This was not Shiro.  Or it was, but Shiro wasn’t home.

“Get down!” Keith yelled, at the same moment Lance yelled “Run!”.  They scrambled just as Shiro lifted a weapon - a Galra-made gun, Keith had known Shiro could use one but it still looked so wrong in his hands - and fired on them.

“What the  _ hell?” _ Pidge hissed, barely understandable from the force of it.  “He- what did they do?”

Lance swallowed hard, and the next breath he took sounded wet.  “Shiro?  C’mon, man.”

There was no response.  Not even a blink.  If Shiro had hard Lance’s shaky voice, he gave no indication.  Instead, he lifted the rifle again and aimed with cold precision, and Lance ducked out of the way just in time.  It sailed over him, right where his head would have been.

A kill shot.  From Shiro to Lance.

Hunk offered his hand and pulled Lance up, then stayed clutching his hand.  

But the fire didn’t let up, and Keith understood why Shiro had been able to cause so much destruction in so little time, all on his own (or, so it seemed: Keith figured there was a Galra soldier here somewhere keeping an eye on Shiro, though where he had no idea).

All of them had been personally trained under Shiro and the castle bots.  They were very used to dodging laser fire and they knew how he moved.  But this wasn’t the showy intimidation the Galra prefered, the spray and pray that was meant to terrify rather than exterminate.  After all, who would do the work if the Galra killed everyone?  They just wanted control.

Shiro had no such motivation.  Every shot was carefully aimed.  Center of the chest, head, stomach and kidneys.

They couldn’t take this.  Unless they were willing to fire back, Shiro would eventually wear them down, still without a single sign of emotion or recognition.

God, the lack of recognition.  Even after losing his year in captivity, Keith had never seriously thought about how it would feel to see Shiro without the warmth, without the knowledge of the evenings spent together in dorm rooms, sharing stories about flight classes and instructors.  Without remembering all the ways Shiro had coached him, from the best classes to take to the ways to sneak out on weekends to get fresh air.

In all these years, Shiro had always been the one there for Keith.  Even when he’d been gone to Kerberos, Keith had no doubt that Shiro had cared for him as a person, and not as another star pupil to trot around.

That was gone, dead like it had never been.

A shot whistled past Keith’s ear, close enough to spark and make his hair burn. He glanced back and saw Shiro following them, each step slow and measured.  He was reminded, suddenly, of an article he’d read years ago.  One that suggested early humanity had stalked prey until it collapsed from exhaustion.  No running or speed required, just patience and endurance.

Both of which Shiro had in spades.

They needed cover.  And time to collect themselves, because each and every one of them look shell-shocked.

Keith tilted his head to the right just as they came across an alley.  And if anyone had any reservations about running and finding a hiding place, it didn’t survive Shiro’s next shot, which whizzed so close to Hunk’s ear that it clipped the hanging strands of his headband.

Ducking down it, Keith burst out the other side at full speed and headed right.  They needed somewhere to duck behind before Shiro emerged on the other end and knew which way to go.  Spotting a door left ajar, he ran for that and knocked it open with his shoulder.  The second everyone followed him in, he closed it shut and ducked down.

After a few seconds, Keith dared to let out a breath.  If Shiro had seen them, he would already be knocking the door down.  They had a minute or two.

When he turned back around, he faced the others.  They all looked as shocked and upset as Keith felt.

“What now?” He asked, barely above a whisper.

Pidge held up a finger in the sign to wait, and then pulled up her wrist screen.  She started to type rapidly, then sent it off.  “There.  Coran and Allura know as much as we do.  They should be on their way.”

“Good,” Hunk replied.  “And what after that?”

Lance ran his hand through his hair.  “We have to catch him, right?  We can’t... we can’t leave him here, and we definitely can’t hurt him.”

Chewing his bottom lip, Hunk shrugged.  “Maybe we can talk to him?”  He didn’t seem convinced by his own words.

They’d all seen the lack of recognition and the cool, careless gaze.  And they all knew exactly how dangerous Shiro could be.  He was, after all, the Champion.

Something like ice settled in Keith’s stomach.  “If Shiro could tell us what he wanted,” he started, each word slow and carefully chosen.  “He wouldn’t want to stay like this.  No matter what.  We should keep that in mind.”

Keith was pinned by three horrified looks.   “We are not going to-  _ no.” _  Pidge practically snarled the words.  “You shut up.”

“I’m not saying start with that!” Keith shot back, then lowered his voice again.  “I just mean... if it’s between letting him go back that way and making a call... He’d want it that way.  He wouldn’t want to do this.”

Hunk shook his head, eyes rimmed with red.  “We can’t.  We  _ can’t.” _

Rather than reply, Keith stared back.  If it was between letting Shiro live out his worst nightmare or ending it, then Keith could do it.  He’d hate it.  He’d never forgive himself and probably never sleep again.  But he’d do it.

Keith owed Shiro that much.

“We’ll worry about that later,” Lance decided, voice raw.  “For now we need to-”

He was interrupted by a shot bursting through the door, blowing a hole where the handle used to be.  If they hadn’t all been sitting, it would have hit someone without a doubt.

Shit.  Time was up.

Everyone darted out of the way as Shiro stepped in.  Now in the close quarters of the small room, he dropped the gun carelessly and activated his arm instead.

In the purple light of it, Keith could see the details they’d missed from a distance.  The bags under Shiro’s eyes were dark, and his face was gaunter.  And there was a new scar on his face, along the side.  It was like a burn mark from his temple.

Keith had a terrible feeling it was responsible for the Shiro they were looking at.

“Shiro!”  Lance tried.  “Come on, dude, we know you don’t want to do this.”

Without reacting to his name, Shiro turned on the nearest target; Keith.

Gritting his teeth, Keith activated his bayard to guard.  The impact of sword on arm sent off sparks, but Keith refused to flinch, because Shiro wouldn’t.  “We won’t hurt you,” he told Shiro.  “Wake up.”

Pulling back, Shiro tilted his head again, this time frowning.  He seemed to finally register that they were talking to him.  “I am awake.”

Keith had never heard that tone from Shiro before.  It barely sounded like his voice, raw and ragged but plain.  It sounded like his throat was ripped to pieces, despite the lack of emotion.

“You’re really not,” Hunk replied softly.  He activated his bayard as well, but didn’t do more than hold it.

For a moment, Shiro considered them all.  Then he moved.

Reaching out, he suddenly darted the other way, grabbing hold of Lance’s arm.  Then he spun, physically throwing Lance over his shoulder and sending him crashing into Keith.  He had to deactivate his bayard to keep from accidentally impaling his teammate.

Which was probably the plan.

Still moving, Shiro started for Hunk, arm activated and back.

Then Pidge’s bayard shot out and wrapped around it.  Both sparked dangerously, Galra energy meeting electricity.

Glancing at her, Shiro’s eyes narrowed calculatingly.  Then he grabbed hold of the line in his metal hand and  _ yanked. _  It was enough to pull Pidge forward, throwing off her balance.

Which was when Hunk swung his own bayard, and hit Shiro in the back of the head.

Shiro stumbled but didn’t go down.  At least, not until Keith slid in and kicked, taking advantage of the way Shiro was having to catch his balance.  It hit him in the back of the knees, and he teetered backward.  Pidge used the distraction to pull her bayard back in.

Then Lance moved forward, hopping over Keith and landing on Shiro’s exposed chest, finally sending him crashing to the ground.

While Shiro was still grunting from the impact, Lance pushed off with his feet and into a roll, getting clear.  

So when Shiro tried to sit up to follow him, Pidge could take another shot, and this time managed to wrap around him and pin his arms to his sides.  When he started to struggle free, she activated the taser.

Keith had expected it to knock him out, or at least stun him.

It didn’t.  Instead, Shiro  _ screamed. _

Only then did it occur to Keith that the burn on Shiro’s face wasn’t from flames.  It was an electrical burn.

Judging by the way Lance clapped his hand over his mouth, eyes wide, he’d probably figured out the same thing.

“Stay down,” Keith demanded.  Or, he tried to.  It came off as begging.  Because it was.

Twitching, Shiro opened one eye to look at him. The gaze was openly calculating, and he was clearly trying to figure out the best way to get out of this.  Already, he was working his wrists in a way Keith recognized.

But so did Hunk, because he put his foot down on Shiro’s arm.  “Stop.  We know how you work, Shiro.  I don’t want to hurt you, but if it’s between that and letting you get out, I’ll do it.”

This time, Shiro did still.  And he looked at Hunk, brows furrowed.  “Who the hell is Shiro?”

It wasn’t an unexpected answer, but it still made Keith’s stomach drop to his feet.  Hunk’s shoulders tightened, and Pidge physically looked away, eyes slamming shut.

Of them, only Lance seemed to keep his cool.  He kneeled down next to Shiro, eyes serious.  “You are.”

“I am Champion,” Shiro replied, without any emotion of emphasis.  It wasn’t even the title Shiro had struggled with so much.  It was simply his identity.  His name.

What had they  _ done _ to him?

Pidge shook her head hard, eyes still closed.  “Not just that.  Not even mostly that.  Never.”

Something finally seemed to give, and Shiro looked between them all, frowning.  “You know me?”

“Yes,” Hunk replied plainly, meeting Shiro’s gaze.  “More than that.”  When Shiro tilted his head in question, Hunk gave a smile that trembled at the edges.  “We love you.”

It seemed to hit Shiro like a physical blow.  He tensed up, every muscle in his body suddenly cording tight.  And then he slumped forward all at once, staring at his lap.  “Why?”

“Because you’re Shiro,” Keith replied softly.

Shiro didn’t seem to have a response to that.

Which was good, because Keith didn’t know what else to say.

**

When Allura and Coran arrived, Shiro had given up fighting.  But he hadn’t said anything else, and wouldn’t engage with them anymore.  He stared resolutely at his armor boots and refused to so much as meet anyone’s eyes.

Which was really unfortunate, because it made it really difficult to figure out what he was thinking.  Was he planning on escaping?  Trying to figure out his lost memories?  Was he remembering other times he’d been captured and held against his will?

Keith had to freeze that thought and backtrack from it, because even the notion sent a shiver down his spine.

“Hello, Shiro,” Allura greeted softly, as she walked in.  

This time, he flinched at the name, but didn’t otherwise react.  Instead he picked up his head.  “Are you here to kill me?”

Coran’s brows rose.  “Goodness, no!  If the goal was to kill you, it wouldn't require our presence, would it?  It’d be done already.”

Somehow, that plain logic seemed to reach Shiro, and his brow furrowed as he nodded.  “True.  Why not?”

“Because we don’t kill one of our own,” Allura replied plainly.

Shiro looked around them all, eyes wide again.  There was something undone in his gaze.

Keith had no idea what it was.

“Now,” Allura continued, as if she had never been interrupted.  “I think it’s time to get you back to the ship.  There’s someone who missed you very much.”  

Staring at her, Shiro tilted his head, clearly curious.  But he never voiced his question.

Leaning down, Allura scooped Shiro up, unbothered that he was still wrapped in Pidge’s bayard.  “There we are.  This is much faster.”  She paused, then looked at him.  “In case it was not obvious, I am stronger than you.  If you feel the need to try and use your arm to escape or otherwise attack, I will take your arm off by whatever means necessary.  Just so we understand.”

Keith bristled at her words, and Pidge actually took a step forward, teeth bared.

But, absurdly, Shiro relaxed, like being threatened was back to comfortable normality.  He slumped against her, vulnerable and nearly submissive.  His head was tilted back just slightly, neck exposed, and his eyes were closed.

That was probably the pose they’d taught him to take for any Galra commander.

Keith bit his tongue to keep from screaming.

But as they started to walk, Shiro’s brow furrowed.  It looked like he was struggling with himself.  Finally, he spoke.  “You will need to hurry.  My handler will be looking for me soon.”

That was...

Shiro was helping.  Shiro was on their side.

Keith hadn’t known how deeply he needed that again until he suddenly wanted to cry.

Nodding jerkily, Lance offered him a smile.  “Thank you.”

Shiro just closed his eyes again, neck back and brow furrowed.

And Keith had no idea what he was thinking.

***

In the castle, it was safe enough to unwrap Shiro.  They weren’t going to trust him with anything important, and for now it wasn’t a good idea to let him in the power core or the control room.  But he needed to be untied for this anyway.

Standing next to Keith, Pidge knocked their arms together.  “Are we sure about this?” She asked, voice barely more than a whisper.  If they hadn’t been close enough to brush arms, Keith wouldn’t have heard her.

“About what?” He asked, not tearing his eyes away from Shiro, who was looking around in open, nervous confusion.

“We don’t know what he’s been through.  What they did to him.  Is it a good idea to give him access to the black lion?  I want to believe in him, but we have to be smart, too.”

Keith considered that.  “I don’t think it’s a problem to just... let them be in the hanger together.  But letting him in the cockpit is probably a bad idea.  And if he insists...”  He trailed off.

And Pidge picked up his train of thought immediately.  “Then we’ll have an indicator.  True.  It just makes me nervous.  It feels like we’re being stupid.”

“It’s magic,” Lance suddenly offered, making them both jolt.  “Sorry.  I wanted to know what you were whispering about.  But it’s magic.  It makes sense in a... big way.  Not a detail way.”

Pidge just scowled, but she nodded.

And then Allura opened the hangar, and they all shut up.

The black lion was revealed, inch by inch.  It was in the same position as it had been for 49 days, lying flat with the head on the floor, unresponsive.

Except when Shiro stepped forward, eyes wide, the lion’s yellow eyes flickered on, and then shone.

“What...?”  Shiro started to reach out, expression smoothing, but then he froze.  “I... no.  No!”  He suddenly stepped back, clutching at his head, fisting into the hair on the side of his head, now long enough to grab.  “No!  Get out,  _ get out.” _

Pidge stiffened, eyes wide.  “No,” she murmured.  And as soon as she said it, Keith could follow the logic.  That they’d fallen into some stupid trap, that Haggar was in Shiro’s head and was going to turn him against them again.

But Hunk rested a hand on her shoulder, shaking his head.  “Wait.  Don’t jump to conclusions.  We don’t kno-”

He was cut off by Shiro’s scream.  “Get out! Why is it- no.   _ No! _  I don’t want you- not again, please don’t... No, no I’m  _ sorry, _ I’ll didn’t mean to-”  He dug his finger in, scratching at the sides of his face.  At his temple.  “Not like her, go away get  _ out!  Not again!” _

Pieces started to click like puzzle pieces.  The burn, the druids, the black lion going quiet.

Haggar must have dug into Shiro’s mind, using a connection like the black lion used.  Something to share thoughts and emotions, and maybe to compel behavior.

And Shiro had done exactly what he’d done in that forest to protect them.  He’d cut himself off from rescue and severed the connections, and in the process left himself vulnerable.

It was a leap, but Keith felt it deeply.  Intuitively, nearly instinctively.

Running forward, he wrapped his arms around Shiro.  Keith heard the arm crackle to life, but didn’t pull away.

Shiro wasn’t going to hurt him.  Not now. 

“It’s okay, you can let it in.  The lion won’t hurt you, I promise.  She’s supposed to be there, it’ll help.  It’ll protect you from Haggar, but you have to let her in.  It’s okay, you can have that again.  You can  _ trust  _ it.  You can trust us.”

Crying out, Shiro shook his head.  “I can’t.”

But his arm sputtered back off, and he leaned into the touch like he was pulled by magnets.  Like the armor the Galra has put on him was weighing him down too much to hold himself up.

“Then we can wait,” Hunk murmured, and Keith’s head jerked up to look at him.  He sat down next to him, his shoulder pressed warmly to Shiro’s side.  “If you’re not ready, we’ll close the hanger and wait, and we won’t try again until you’re ready.”

Hunk said it so simply, as though they had any kind of control over the black lion and the connection.  But, well, the lion did care about Shiro, so maybe it was simple as that.

Nodding, Pidge sat behind Shiro, one hand resting on his armored back.  When he didn’t flinch, she leaned in, wrapping one arm around his waist.  “We waited almost two months to get you back.  We can wait for you now too.”

“As long as you’re here and safe with us, that’s what matters,” Lance agreed, setting on Shiro’s other side.  “Everything else we can work with, so long as you’re not hurting anymore.”

Shiro’s head whipped from side to side, eyes wet and confused.  It was hard to see him that way, especially after going so long without having him there.  He’d been their leader, their calm center, and they’d needed him most when he was taken.  Now to have him back was such a painful, aching need, because it was so, so close.

But that need wasn’t worth anything if it wasn’t on Shiro’s terms.  He couldn’t be that for them now.

That was okay.  They’d be that for him instead, until he was ready.  If he ever became ready.

Lance was right.  It didn’t matter what state they had him in.  What was important was that Shiro was protected.

Glancing around one more time, Shiro stared over Keith’s shoulder, probably looking to Allura and Coran.  “I don’t-”  He closed his eyes and swallowed, looking painfully vulnerable.  “I don’t know what’s real anymore.”

Staring backwards at the lion’s still glowing eyes, Keith made a call.  And it might have been a stupid one, but it was the best they had.  “You can see for yourself.  We can show you our memories and thoughts.  Anything you need to know what’s true.”

Head snapping up, Shiro stared at him.  “You’d-”  He seemed absolutely floored that someone would offer him the same thing they were demanding of him.

Which was no real surprise.  Why would he think anything else, given what the past 49 days had been like?

“We have before, and we’ll do it again, as many times as you want,” Pidge replied.  She sounded smaller, somehow.  “We just want you back.  No more leaving.”

And if Keith had a single doubt that their Shiro was still in there, it was gone.  Because Shiro absolutely melted at the words, everything about him softening and warming.  “Okay.  How?”

“You need to be inside the lion,” Hunk replied carefully, an apology in his voice.  “And then you just have to connect with us.”

Taking a deep breath, Shiro stood.  “Okay.  I want to know.  I want to remember.”  But the look he cast back at the black lion was fearful and raw.

“It can wait,” Lance said.  “If you don’t want to.”

But Shiro shook his head, jaw set.  “No.  I want to.”  And then he set his shoulders 

And it was probably so, so stupid, but within ten minutes they were all flying.

When Shiro talked through the helmet, there was a smile to his voice.  He finally sounded familiar again.

Nothing after this was going to be simple.  It wasn’t going to be that they got him back and ‘fixed him’, that the past 49 days had never happened.  Shiro wasn’t the same person, and neither were they.  It was going to be hard.

But some things were easy.

“Form Voltron.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can see more, or get my comment fics/request fics days earlier by following me at Bosstoaster.tumblr.com


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